


Coalescence

by MisstressSezza



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Big Brother Thor (Marvel), Brother Feels, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Gen, Kid Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Multiverse, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisstressSezza/pseuds/MisstressSezza
Summary: Innocence, once lost, can never be restored, and those most aware of the horrors of the world – those with intimate knowledge of terror and violence and blood – were always the first to lose, and also the most keenly aware of what they had lost. Age and truth killed the child within. And Loki was very, very old.*Set post-Infinity War/during Endgame*
Comments: 23
Kudos: 133





	1. An Unexpected Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: FYI this is the first fanfic I've posted where I haven't already had the story mostly written. I'll try to update once a month, so please be patient with me. However, this also means that any thoughts, feedback, or ideas will be greatly appreciated, and may even make it into the story! So please review if you enjoyed this chapter, so that I know at least one person is reading this :D

Thor trudged listlessly along the dirt road, watching in mindless fascination as his feet still somehow managed to follow one in front of the other. Truth be told, he offered to go into town to get roofing supplies for naught other than selfish reasons. He had to get away from New Asgard. Seeing what was left of his decimated people was crushing his soul. Barely 500 of them. 500 out of the thousands and thousands of his subjects that once populated the streets, the markets; that threw festivals and decorated the town square every Ostara. All those families – mothers, fathers, children – all gone. Dead. He failed his people, and now they were dead. Loki was right; he truly was ill suited to the throne.

_Loki..._

_Oh, Loki..._

His home was gone, his people gone. His mother, father, friends – all gone. His brother...his little brother, the one he was supposed to protect above all else... gone. And with Thanos dead and the Infinity Stones destroyed, he had no hope of getting any of them back.

_You were right, brother. You should have been the one to lead them. Maybe then, everything would not have been destroyed. Maybe then, you would still be alive..._

A frigid blast of air shook Thor from his wallowing as the dirt road rounded a gently rolling hill to reveal the larger town of Sandefjord sprawled out before him. Thor tugged his fur-lined cloak tighter around his protruding belly. He had never liked the cold. Loki had always been the one who...

_No. Stop. Stop thinking. It only makes it hurt more._

Thor let his mind blank. An easy feat for him, Loki would have said. In truth, it was something he was doing far more often these days. And at nights, when it was worse, when the wretched memories wouldn't leave his thoughts, he was forced to drown them in drink until nothing remained but a pleasant buzzing. Norns, what his father would say if he could see his favourite son then. How deeply he must regret handing his kingdom over to the wrong brother.

Struggling to keep his thoughts in check, Thor wandered through the market stalls in the town square, heading to the south side where he knew stood a large store for hardwares. The shouts of merchants advertising their wares and the sounds of children running and playing about their mother's skirts reminded him all too painfully of home, and he quickened his footsteps until he had left the worst of the clamour behind.

The main street branched off into narrower, cobblestone paths, and Thor was headed towards the one on his left, towards the hardware store, when angry shouting from his right caught his attention. Curiously, he poked his head back out of the alleyway, searching for the source of the disturbance. Down one of the dingier alleyways, a rotund and balding Norwegian man was chasing a small, dark-haired boy around with a broomstick. Thor was about to shrug it off and continue on his quest, when something about the way the boy moved gave him pause.

The scrawny child darted to and fro, a stick of bread in his grubby hand, an impish grin on his lips as the baker's face grew redder and redder in his effort to catch him. " _Kom hit, tyv_!" The baker shouted, finally landing the handle of his broom across the back of the boy's legs with a stinging thwack. With a surprised grunt, the boy tumbled over the cobblestones, skinning his knees, the loaf of bread sent flying. Obstinately, he scurried after it, not wanting to give up on his prize.

The baker descended upon him, striking blows across his back as the boy curled around his bounty, refusing to give it up. " _Skitten hjemløs barn_!"

"Enough!" Thor roared, plunging into the altercation, his hand held aloft to fend off any further blows from the broomstick. "Stop this!" He commanded, drawing upon the remnants of the authority he once had. The baker glanced up, somewhat shocked at the intrusion. "He is a thief!" The man spluttered, pointing the broom in the boy's direction. Thor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins. He thrust them at the man. "I'm sure this will be enough to cover whatever the boy has taken."

The baker held out his hands as Thor tipped the coins into them, a confused look on his face, but Thor ignored him, bending to help the boy instead. He laid an enormous hand on the boy's bony shoulder, intending to help the boy to his feet, but when the child turned to look up at his rescuer, Thor stumbled back with a gasp.

"No. It can't be..."

Vivid green eyes peered up at him from underneath a mop of black hair. Eyes that he had known since childhood. Eyes that had looked at him with love, with envy, with hatred, with pain. Eyes that he had watched burst from their skull, bloody and distorted.

"...Loki?"

Emerald eyes studied him cautiously, confusion furrowing the brows. A flash of recognition, perhaps, but it was gone as quickly as the boy was. The dark-haired thief bolted, dashing down another narrow alleyway before Thor could overcome his shock.

"Loki, wait!"

Thor bounded after the boy, cursing his lapse in fitness as the child escaped down narrower and narrower paths. Thor had to turn sideways to scrape past a dumpster, sucking in a breath. He stumbled out of the alleyway and into the station square, spotting a small, dark head weaving through the throngs of people towards the train station entrance.

"Wait! Stop!" Thor took off once again in pursuit, muttering half-spoken apologies as he barrelled through the crowd and down the station steps.

Down on the crowded platform, Thor paused, turning in a frantic circle as he searched the throng for a familiar flash of jet-black hair. Hot, stale air plastered his hair to his face as a train whipped by; the loud, blaring horn and clatter of wheels over tracks drowning out the thrum of the crowd for a moment. There! He caught a glimpse of dark hair and a tattered cloak moving towards the exit at the far end of the platform. Thor shoved past people, ignoring the dirty looks they shot him. He could only care about one thing right now.

"Loki, stop!" He called out as the crowd began to thin at the end of the platform. He manoeuvred in front of the stairs leading up to the exit, blocking Loki's path. The boy froze, cut off by Thor, the crowd, and the train tracks behind him. He had nowhere left to run.

"Loki, it's me. It's Thor. I thought you were... how did you survive?" Thor took a few tentative steps towards the boy, his hands held aloft placatingly. Loki shuffled backwards as Thor approached, his eyes blown wide in fear, constantly darting over his surroundings in search of an opening or escape.

"Stay away from me, you crazed butterball!"

"Butterb-huh?!" Thor spluttered indignantly, "Loki! It's me!" Loki was backing up dangerously close to the platform's edge, and Thor dropped down to one knee, trying to appear less threatening.

"Loki, I swear it. I am Thor, first-born son to Odin and Frigga, King of Asgard and-"

"Ha! Wrong!" Loki interrupted, jabbing a slender finger in Thor's direction. "My father is the King of Asgard, you imbecile! Thor is just a Prince, like me!"

Thor froze, panicked. Does he dare tell this poor child that his parents are both dead? That his home is destroyed? His people decimated? No, he does not even believe he is who he says he is. He would only think them lies. Thor realised that Loki was edging back towards the crowd, ready to make a break for it again.

"Loki, please, just listen." Thor made to grab his brother's arm, to hold him there until he could explain, but the sudden movement sent Loki stumbling back, his feet shuffling off the platform's edge. Thor's outstretched fingertips brushed over rough fabric for a split second, and the he was gone, as if falling into the Void once again.

A train horn blasted its warning, almost stopping Thor's heart. "LOKI!" Thor screamed, leaping down onto the tracks as the train careened towards them, its brakes screeching at it futilely attempted to stop in time. There were screams and shouts from the platform, but Thor was deaf to it. He scooped a wild-eyed Loki into his arms and gathered the power of the storm beneath his feet. He sprung upward, the train missing the soles of his boots by a hairs-breadth. Thor braced an arm above his head as they punched through the roof, sailing up into the greying sky. He tucked a squirming Loki tighter against his body, aiming his landing in the direction of New Asgard.

Thor skidded to a stop at the outskirts of his new home, gravel scattering under his feet as he momentarily lost his balance. He had not used his powers in years and the muscle memory was slow to return to him. Loki squirmed out of his grip and they both went tumbling a few feet down the hillside.

"Loki, are you alright?" Thor scrambled to his feet, rushing to help his little brother who was blowing on a scraped elbow. "Ow. No, I'm not! I'm a prince, you know! You can't kidnap me! My Father will hunt you down!"

With a weary sigh, Thor plonked himself down in the dirt before his brother. He took a moment to study the boy, even as Loki eyed him warily. He was small; smaller than Thor remembered him being at that age. His brother had always been slender of build, but now, his cheeks were hollow, dirt smeared across the sharp cut of his cheekbones. The too-big corduroy jacket swam on him, its edges dirty and tattered, but the worn fleece lining was mostly intact. His pants and boots were of Asgardian make, and beneath the jacket, Thor could see that familiar forest green of Loki's favourite tunic. He wondered just how long Loki had been on Midgard. Could it have been this whole time? Right under Thor's nose?

"How old are you?" Thor blurted into the silence. The odd question seemed to shock Loki into an answer.

"I'm a hundred and seven. How old are _you_?"

Thor exhaled a long breath through his nose. "Much older now." He contemplated the distrustful look in Loki's eyes before proceeding with his next question. "Do you remember what I got you for your hundredth birthday?" Loki's little brow furrowed in confusion, his thin lips pursed, but he nodded anyway.

"It was a wooden figure of Slephnir. I carved it myself from a branch of Mother's Yule tree. It took me days to make it perfect, and I sliced my hands to ribbons, but you were so happy with it. You carried it everywhere with you for months, do you remember?"

Loki nodded again slowly, something like curiosity breaking through the clouds of wariness in his gaze. Thor chewed at his tongue, contemplating his next words. "Something... happened to you. You were lost to me. I thought you..." Thor shook his head to clear it of the nightmares that had plagued him for four long years. "But you're here. You're just... young again."

Little Loki frowned; his face pulled tight in a look of concentration that Thor recognised. "So... you're saying I was old, like you, but I disappeared and then turned up like this?" He gestured at his miniature form. Thor wobbled his head in a noncommitted way. "That is more or less accurate."

Loki picked at his lips. It was a habit Thor hadn't seen him do since they were children, and he wondered idly when he had stopped. Or maybe he had only refused to let Thor see it. "Was it a spell? A time loop, perhaps?" Loki asked, leaning forwards suddenly.

"I don't know." Thor answered honestly, "I was hoping you would."

Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed; a gesture so painfully familiar that it made Thor want to both laugh and cry. "Really Thor, you're all old – probably like a thousand – and you _still_ never learnt to wield _sedir_?"

Thor chuckled – possibly for the first time in months. "No, brother. I always had you for that."

Loki stared hard at his brother; viridian gaze taking in the scraggly beard, the unkempt hair, the rounded belly. He worried at his bottom lip, suddenly seeming afraid. "Was I... Did I get fat too?" Anxious eyes peered up at him in horror, and the mental image was so ridiculous that Thor threw back his head and laughed.

"Do not fret, little brother." Thor reassured, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. "You were nothing of the sort."

"Come now," Thor clambered to his feet, offering his hand to Loki, "Let us get you cleaned up and something to eat." Loki's eyes narrowed at him briefly, but after a moment's hesitation he took the proffered hand. "Maybe you really are my brother." Loki grumbled as they began to make their way down into the village. "He always did think with his stomach."

Thor suddenly realised how much he had missed laughing.

.

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

.

"Thor. This is insane." Valkyrie stood in his kitchen, arms crossed over her chest, glowering at him. "Take him back to where you found him."

"Valkyrie. Val. Just trust me on this. I know it's him. I know it! Just look at him!" Together, both Asgardians poked their heads out of the kitchen to stare at the dark-haired child sat on the living room floor, Miek curled up in his lap. His eyes were glued to the television as Korg raced a bright green car around downtown Los Santos. "See, now the coppas are chasin' us – we gotta lose them. If this here gets to five stars, ya done for. GET OUTTA THE WAY YA DICKHEAD!"

Valkyrie turned to Thor and raised one judgemental eyebrow.

"What? Miek recognised him!" As if to prove Thor's point, Miek burrowed a little deeper in Loki's lap, snuffling happily.

Valkyrie sighed heavily, leaning back against the doorframe as she eyed Thor with pity. "Look, Thor. I know these past few years have been hard on you. I know you miss him. I do too. But bringing home some random kid off the street is not bringing him back."

Thor shook his head, his scraggly beard swaying as he did so. "Valkyrie, you don't understand. I _know_ my little brother. This _is_ Loki. Somehow..."

"Valkyrie? As in the Valkyries of Asgard?" Without either of them noticing, the little godling had sidled up alongside them to listen, Miek following loyally behind.

Valkyrie straightened, eyeing the boy. "Yeah, that's me, what of it?"

Loki's gaze flickered from Valkyrie to Thor and hesitantly back again. "Father always told us stories of the Valkyries. How they fought against the evil demon named Hela and banished her to Hel. But... I thought he said all the Valkyries died?"

Valkyrie's eyes narrowed. "They did." Her jaw worked for a moment, anger pulsing in her neck, but she released it with her next breath. She knelt down to Loki's eye level, watching him with interest. "You really think you're Loki? Prince of Asgard? God of Mischief?" Loki nodded fervently, eager to prove his words truthful. "Okay then, little godling, mischief me." She waved a hand at him when Loki hesitated. "Go on!"

"I... I can't." Loki stuttered out, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Thor's brow furrowed. "Loki? What do you mean you can't?"

Loki looked up to Thor, fear and apprehension clear on his child-like face. "I-I lost it. My magic. I don't have my magic."

Thor and Valkyrie shared a bewildered look.

"How is that possible? You were born with _sedir_."

Loki only shrugged, his bottom lip quivering as he fought to control his disappointment.

"He's not... _mortal_...is he?" Valkyrie whispered, aghast at the thought.

Thor licked his thumb and rubbed at the dried blood on Loki's knee, ignoring the way Loki's face scrunched in disgust. It came away easily, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath. "No. He's already healing." He looked Loki up and down, trying to decipher a sensible reason why Loki's magic was inaccessible. "Nothing? Not even shapeshifting?" Loki had also been born with the inherent ability for transfiguration, performing his first successful shift into a cat when he was only three years old.

Loki shook his head, the tears beginning to gather on his lashes turning his eyes a sparkling green. "I tried when I first woke up on Midgard, but I couldn't feel it." He tapped on his chest, sniffling slightly. "I tried to call Heimdall too, but he wouldn't answer me." The gathering tears began to roll down his cheeks now, in spite of the boy's attempt to wipe them away with his sleeve. "It's been three moons, Thor. Why couldn't Heimdall see me? Or Father? Wasn't... Wasn't Father looking for me?"

His breath caught in a hitching sob, and instinctually Thor scooped him up into his arms, shushing him quietly. "It's alright, Loki. I've found you now, we'll figure out the rest together." Thor cooed, trying to ignore the horrible, hollow ache in his chest that felt like Mjolnir had smashed his heart to pieces.

"Come. Let's get you cleaned up. You smell like Slephnir's stables." Thor beamed at the glare Loki shot him, but the boy allowed himself to be carried into the bathroom. Valkyrie watched them go with a curious look in her eye.

Once Loki was fed, bathed, and dressed in clean clothes Valkyrie had borrowed from some of the village mothers, Thor tucked him into his own bed; the boy's tiny form dwarfed by the queen-sized blankets, and Miek curled at his feet. Thor watched him sleep, conflicting emotions warring painfully in his chest. The crack of light from the hallway fell across Loki's face; he was still thin, but some colour had returned to his cheeks, and his raven hair was now detangled and shiny. When was the last time he had seen his brother sleep so peacefully? Had it been when they were this young? Had he truly spent a thousand years never really seeing his own brother? Never noticing?

Thor's head dropped dejectedly into his hands, and he tugged at the tangles in his own hair. "Oh Norns, thank you. Thank you. I will not fail him again, I swear it."

A shadow in the doorway snuffed out the sliver of light, and Thor raised his head to find Valkyrie watching. She jerked her head toward the living room, and Thor quietly followed her out.

"So, that really is your little bro then, ay? Was cool as a little dude." Korg nodded in approval, taking a swig of his beer can. Thor joined him at the dining table, plopping down heavily into a seat.

Valkyrie rounded on him, arms crossed menacingly. "What _exactly_ is your plan here, Thor? You're going to take care of a kid?"

"Of course!" Thor hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "He's _my_ brother."

Valkyrie sighed, all her bluster leaking out of her as she deflated into a chair. "Thor, you've barely been taking care of yourself, how are you going to look after him? And why hasn't he got his magic? Is there something wrong with him? And who put him here? He was dead. We both watched it happen."

Thor squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block that particular horrifying memory, but Valkyrie continued regardless of his discomfort. "And why now? Where was he before now? Why doesn't he remember anything?"

"I don't know, Val!" He snapped, his voice rising in his frustration, and he quickly lowered it back to a whisper. "Loki was the magic expert. I don't even know enough about it to tell if this is magic, or something else entirely. And I can't _ask_ anyone because they're all _dead_. The Mages, the Healers, Mother... Even the Great Library is gone now and I _don't know what to do._ "

Defeated, Thor dropped his head in his hands, panic overwhelming him. His shoulder shook as Korg patted it well-meaningly. "There, there." The Kronan tried, "Me and Miek will help you. Found a baby bird once that lost its mum. We raised 'im up, helped him grow big and strong – can't be much harder than that, right?"

Forcing a smile, Thor returned the gesture and clasped Korg's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. Your offer is appreciated."

Valkyrie raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So, what happened to the bird?"

"Oh, er, we ate him." Korg shrugged his massive shoulders, but at least had the decency to look sheepish about it.

Valkyrie stared, unamused. "Korg, what-" Whatever the Valkyrie had been about to say was cut off by an ear-piercing scream.

Thor's stomach dropped into his boots as he jumped to his feet, sprinting to Loki's door, Valkyrie and Korg right behind him.

"Loki! What is it? What's wrong?" He demanded in a panicked flurry, flicking on the lights. Loki was sat up in the bed, clutching his right arm to his chest with a pained look on his face, while Miek spun in anxious circles on the floor, whining.

"My arm! My arm hurts!" Loki whimpered; his face pulled tight in agony as stray tears leaked down his face.

Thor was at his side in an instant. "Let me see." Carefully, he rolled up Loki's sleeve. Three distinct lumps bulged just beneath the rapidly purpling skin.

"What happened?" Valkyrie glared around the room, as if expecting to find the culprit responsible hiding under the bedside table.

"I don't-don't know." Loki sniffed. "I think... I fell."

"What? Out of bed?"

"No... I don't know. I-I think I was climbing... a tree?" Loki glanced up at Thor, uncertainty written all over his tear-stained face. Thor sucked in a sharp breath, a realisation striking him. Valkyrie shot him a strange look. "What? What is it?"

"This... This has happened before." Thor stated dazedly, his brain still trying to catch up with reality.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Valkyrie demanded, her hands on her hips and her tone taking on a sharp edge.

"When Loki was about this age, he fell out of Idunn's apple tree. I... I told him he would never be able to climb to the top... so he did. He fell and broke his arm. Mother scolded me so harshly for not taking better care..."

"So this is, what? Cosmic adjustment?"

Thor rubbed at his beard. "I don't know. Perhaps it is part of his current condition."

Valkyrie shook her head, but her words took on a softer tone. "Korg, can you bring me the bandages? I think there's still some under the sink."

"Sure thing, on it." Korg gave a curt nod, his heavy footsteps crunching down the hall. Valkyrie took a seat on the bed next to Loki, taking his arm with more delicacy than Thor had thought her capable of. She inspected the break carefully, her fingers barely touching Loki's skin. Korg returned with the bandages and Valkyrie set to work, carefully looping the cloth under Loki's arm and around his neck. "This is a complex break, Thor. The best I can do is put it in a sling for now, but I doubt it will heal straight. He needs a Healer."

Thor nodded solemnly, a tight smile pulling across his face. "It's alright. I know a Doctor."


	2. The Littlest Avenger

"Morning. Have fun?" Natasha asked as Steve tossed his gym bag haphazardly into a corner. Truthfully, she could barely call it morning; the sun only just now beginning to stream in through the windows, but she had been up for long enough to be unable to tell the difference. She only ever slept in fragments now. Repercussions of intergalactic time zones, she supposed.

"It was fine. You know... empty." He shrugged in response, ambling over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

"I heard back from Denvers this morning. Well, last night, technically."

"And?"

Natasha stabbed at the flakes in her bowl, holding them under the milk with the back of her spoon, only to watch them shoot back to the surface again. "She reached the farthest planet. It's the same there. Half the population."

Nodding, Steve exhaled heavily through his nose as he plopped down at the table. "As we expected."

"Yeah... I know." Natasha murmured, her thoughts a million miles away as she played with her food. Steve dragged a bowl towards him, noisily pouring his breakfast and digging in hungrily.

"Is Bruce here?" Natasha asked suddenly, "I never heard him come in last night."

"Yeah, I heard him tinkering about in his lab. I'll take him up something later. You know he always forgets to come down and eat."

Natasha nodded, finally bringing her spoon to her lips. She chewed mechanically – nothing seemed to taste the same. Nothing felt the same. It was wrong. All of it. It was all wrong, and she had no way to make it better.

"Clint took off again. I don't... I don't know if he'll be back this time." Natasha muttered to her cereal.

Steve took a moment to swallow his mouthful. "Have faith, Nat. He's just... working through it. We all are."

She nodded half-heartedly. "I know. I know that. I just thought-"

A resounding boom echoed throughout the Avengers Facility, making the plates rattle on the table and the glass in the windows. Natasha and Steve were on their feet in an instant, chairs screeching against the floorboards. "Was that a missile? Are we under attack?" Steve ripped open the cupboard in the hall, tossing a handgun to Natasha and loading one for himself.

"I don't know – the alarms didn't go off." She clicked her clip into place, padding silently down the hall on the balls of her feet, her back to the wall and Steve following behind. She heard shuddering footsteps somewhere behind her that indicated Banner was descending the staircase. Natasha crossed the foyer and quickly flipped on the front security camera, Steve peering at the tiny screen over her shoulder.

"Is that...?"

"Yep." Natasha turned to wrench open the front door, stowing her gun in the belt of her pants. As she stepped out onto the front lawn, she hugged her arms to her chest, huddling from the early morning chill made worse by the sudden gust of wind swirling around the large and familiar figure.

"Friends!" Thor boomed, raising Stormbreaker in greeting as the gale died down to a gentle breeze. "Greetings! I hope you do not mind the sudden intrusion." It was only as Thor drew closer that Natasha realised he was carrying something in his arms. A something that turned out to be a tiny person.

"Oh, Thor, you have a... I mean, I didn't know you had a... No one told me..." Steve stammered uncomfortably, his brain struggling to put two and two together.

"Thor! Buddy!" Banner cried, finally joining the group with a wave of his enormous green hand.

"Ah, Bruce! Just the man we wanted to see!" Thor strode straight past them to meet Bruce, grinning brightly. Steve and Natasha shared a bewildered look before turning back to join the other two Avengers.

"And who have we got here?" Bruce bent his tremendous frame in half to peer at the small boy in Thor's arms. The child couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old. Thin, for his age, with wild black hair. He stared up at the green monster with wide, curious eyes. "Thor, what creature is this? I have never seen his kind before." Bruce grinned as Thor chuckled, shaking his head.

"He's Asgardian then, I take it?"

Thor nodded, his jovial expression fading into seriousness. "His arm is broken. Can you help?"

"Of course." Bruce said, adjusting the wide-rimmed glasses on his face. "The med-bay is upstairs. This way."

Natasha followed Thor, Bruce and Steve inside in a confused and mildly amused haze. She studied the three men's backs as they ascended the staircase, noting the rigidity in Thor's shoulders. Something didn't feel quite right.

A dark head popped over Thor's left shoulder, two viridian green eyes catching her staring. She mustered her warmest smile, flicking a little wave in his direction. The green eyes only blinked back at her – wide as an owl's and slightly unnerving.

"What happened, Thor? Anything we should worry about?" Steve enquired, just as Banner struck up conversation with the child to answer his earlier question.

"I guess, technically you could call me a Hulk, but I'm the only one of my kind."

"Ah, he fell."

"My name's Bruce. What's your name, little one?"

"Valkyrie wrapped his arm but-"

"I am Prince Loki of Asgard."

There was a collective intake of breath and suddenly all four adults froze in place.

Steve stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled. "Did I hear that right?"

Bruce turned to scrutinise Thor and the boy more closely. "Not Loki as in _your_ Loki?"

Thor glanced around at his friends warily, as if weighing up his answer. "It's strange, I know, but yes, this is my brother."

Steve frowned, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "But, I thought you said Loki was-"

"Perhaps!" Thor interrupted rather desperately. "Perhaps I could explain at a later time?"

"Right, of course." Bruce muttered, his concerned gaze flickering from Natasha to Steve, but he turned and continued on to the infirmary.

Thor set Loki down upon the stainless-steel exam table; the boy's legs swung back and forth over the edge as Bruce gathered supplies and dumped them in a pile beside him. "Okay, let's take a look here." Bruce carefully undid the sling around Loki's neck, slipping easily into the chipper doctor persona.

Catching Thor's eye, Natasha slinked away to the farthest corner, Steve and a reluctant Thor quietly following her.

"So, explain." Natasha commanded in a whisper, arms crossed over her chest and one stern eyebrow raised.

Thor seemed to hold his breath, gaze flicking back and forth between his two teammates, before he let it all out in a rush. "I am unsure of the details myself, but it _is_ my brother."

"You told us Loki died? That Thanos killed him?"

Thor nodded solemnly, his expression darkening. "Indeed, he did. Right in front of my eyes. I don't know how, or why, but my brother is back. Only, he is just a boy." Thor shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to where Loki was curiously watching Bruce scan his arm with a Stark tablet. "He has no memory of future events."

"How do you know it's not a trick?" Steve questioned, "It's not like Loki has never played us before."

"I understand your reluctance, Captain. I know the old Loki might not have been welcomed back on Earth after what he did."

"Might?" Natasha muttered under her breath. Thor ignored her.

"But he was... lost." His expression softened as he watched the young child, a fondness creeping into his eyes that Natasha had never seen before. It almost seemed hopeful. "This is how I knew him as a boy. Curious. Kind. Hungry for knowledge and adventure. _This_ is my brother." Thor glanced away, appearing to mull something over, before continuing. "And he appears to have lost his magic."

"Oh." Steve blinked. "Well, I guess that can't hurt." He turned to Natasha, a questioning eyebrow raised. She shrugged her shoulders in silent communication. "I suppose at least here we can keep a close eye on him." Steve's jaw twitched as he ground his teeth in thought. "He's only a kid, how much trouble could he be?"

Natasha's brows rose towards her hairline. She gawked at Steve with incredulity, but before she could scoff, Thor stepped up to accept the tenuous offer. "Excellent!" Beaming, he clapped a meaty hand on both of their shoulders. "You have my unending gratitude, Captain, Natasha." Natasha suppressed a sarcastic grunt as Thor steered them back toward Bruce and the boy.

"He has multiple borderline compound fractures, Thor." Bruce wiped his glasses on the hem of his shirt, blinking rapidly under the bright fluorescents. "If he was human, he'd need surgery and multiple pins and plates inserted."

"But you _can_ fix it, can't you?" Thor asked, a hint of pleading in his voice.

"Well, with the accelerated healing you guys have, he is already showing signs of bone regrowth. Kind of amazing, actually." Bruce shoved the glasses back on his face. "I'll splint it; keep it immobile for a day or so, and it should heal on its own." Grabbing a fresh roll of gauze and a plastic, U-shaped splint, Bruce turned back to Loki. "Now, this might hurt a little, but I'll try to be done quick, okay?"

Loki only nodded, teeth embedded in his bottom lip and his face set with determination. Bruce began to wrap the arm, pulling the bandage tight to straighten the limb. Loki sucked in a breath between clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. Thor settled a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, worry etched in the lines on his face.

"Ow. Owww." Loki moaned as Bruce pulled the final bandage tight and set about fixing the splint to his arm. "Can't we just go home, Thor? Mother can heal this, and she will know what's wrong with my magic."

Thor's face fell; a thousand-year sorrow settling across his features. "Oh Loki. We can't... We can't go home." Panicked, Loki's gaze shot up from where he was studiously watching Bruce work the clasps on his splint. "Why not? Is Heimdall ignoring you too?"

Thor glanced over to Steve and Natasha, his eyes practically begging for someone to come to his rescue, and Natasha shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Seeing no help would come, Thor closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, searching for the words. "Ragnarok, Loki. It was Ragnarok."

Watching the widening of the boy's eyes and his sharp gasp, Natasha guessed that word meant something to him.

"So, Asgard... Asgard is..." The boy's voice hitched as tears swam across his eyes, making the green shimmer.

"It's gone, Loki. The Golden City has fallen."

Big, crocodile tears slipped over the boy's cheeks as he shook his head. "What of our people? Eir? Freya? Sif?"

Natasha directed her gaze to the scuff marks on her boots. It was too strange to think of Loki as someone who worried for others, who cared of the fates of his people and agonised over their deaths. What had happened to this soft child to corrupt him into the monster he would become?

_You should know how easily children can be corrupted. The Red Room did the same to you._

Loki shifted forward, sliding off the exam table with a grunt. "Where are Mother and Father? I want to see Mother." He demanded; his little brow pinched.

Thor's whole body seemed to crumple, sagging until he was on his knees before his brother. "Oh Loki," he shook his shaggy head, "I'm so sorry."

"No! Take me to Mother!" Tiny fists struck Thor's coat, but the Asgardian barely noticed. "Take me to Mother, Thor! I want to go home!"

"They're gone, Loki. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. They're gone." Thor's words were thick with emotion, and he reached out and pulled his brother close, smothering the onslaught of blows. Tears ran down both the brother's faces as they clung together – all that was left of the once-royal family.

Gazing upon such an intimate moment made Natasha's skin itch, and she quietly slipped out the door. Regardless of what everyone thought, she was not an emotionless turnip, and the sight of a child in such clear distress made her heart ache like a day-old bullet wound. Even if that child happened to be Loki.

Steve joined her a moment later. He rubbed a hand over his face and heaved a sigh. "So?"

Instead of answering, Natasha turned and traipsed down the stairs, deflating down onto the sofa with her chin in her hands. "I've been the handler for many important assets over the years, but never a child." She cocked her head to the side, reconsidering. "Well, unless you count Tony."

Steve snorted, doing his best to douse the grin that wanted to poke its way through. Bruce soon joined them.

"Well," the half-giant clapped his hands together, a façade of cheerfulness, "that was, uh... unexpected."

"What now?" Natasha asked, looking to Steve out of habit. He really hadn't been their leader since the Leipzig-Halle Airport incident, and now, there was hardly anything left to lead. There was no S.H.I.E.L.D, no World Council, no Accords – not even Fury to tell her what to do. The ones that were left checked in with her, kept her abreast of situations as they developed, but without a mission, a goal in mind, it really meant nothing.

Steve picked at his beard. "I... don't know."

"Should we tell someone about this?" Bruce suggested.

"Who? There's no one left to tell."

Bruce glanced away, chagrined. Natasha sighed. "There's a conference call tonight, I can let the others know at least, though they're too far away to be of much help." She brushed away imaginary lint from her pants. "The one we really need right now is Strange. I wonder if this was part of the future he saw."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know, Tony said he never gave any details, but if anyone would know, he-"

"No," Steve cut in abruptly, "leave Stark out of this. He's retired now."

They lapsed into a long silence, and both Bruce and Steve squirmed in the awkwardness of it, pacing or fidgeting restlessly as the minutes crawled by. It was eventually broken by Thor clattering down the stairs, a sleeping Loki in his arms. Thor's eyes still seemed red-rimmed, but they all stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. "He has cried himself to sleep." Thor murmured forlornly, gently laying the boy down on the sofa. With a heavy sigh, Thor took a seat at the opposite end, hiding his face in his hands. After a moment, he sat up, seeming to have reigned in his emotions. "Thank you for your help, my friends. We lost the last of our Healers in the Decimation and I was not sure what else to do."

"It's not a problem, Thor," Steve smiled kindly, "we're happy to help."

"What happened, exactly? I thought you Asgardians were basically indestructible." Bruce frowned, his inquisitive gaze roaming over Loki's sleeping form before landing on Thor. "Even when Hulk... you know, decided to use your brother to redecorate Stark Tower that one time, he was bruised, sure, but nothing broken, besides his pride."

Thor hesitated briefly, eyeing each of his former teammates before his gaze landed on his entwined hands.

"When Loki was young, about the age he appears now, he fell from the top of a tree."

"A tree?" Steve frowned, "That's it?"

Thor shook his head. "It was the Sacred tree of Idunn. I was... As a foolish young boy, I challenged him to climb to the top." Thor raised his eyes to meet Steve's gaze. "The tree is almost a thousand feet tall."

There was an uneasy exchange of glances as the three remaining Avengers shifted uncomfortably. Any human falling from that height would be nothing more than a splatter on the sidewalk.

Bruce rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a green thumb. "Wait, so this... didn't actually happen just now. This happened before, when you were both young?"

Thor nodded slowly. "He remembered it. He remembered it happening, as it happened. It seems my brother's past life is catching up with him."

"So, eventually... he will remember all of it." Natasha mused, as uncomfortable about the revelation as the rest of them appeared to be.

"I can only assume so, yes." Thor watched the rise and fall of the boy's chest, curled up like a cat around his injured arm. "My brother was wrathful; deceitful. A lair and a traitor. A murderer. But he is not the only one with blood on his hands." Thor rubbed his palms together like he was trying to wipe away the memory of red, and Natasha fought the urge to do the same. "He was also kind, and clever. The calm to my storm. He saved my life more times than I could count. He saved the last of our people. He died... trying to stop Thanos, trying to protect the Tesseract... trying to protect me." Thor's head bowed, the grief seeming to overcome him, but then he stood, gaze sharpening in conviction. "I know you distrust Loki, and after the destruction he brought to your city, I don't blame you. But this Loki is not the Loki you once met, I swear it."

"But he will be." All eyes swung to Natasha, and she ignored the urge to skitter away into the shadows. "Once he remembers."

"Perhaps," Thor acquiesced gently, "but I can't help but feel the Norns have given me a second chance to be the brother I should have been. I will not abandon him this time. We will go elsewhere if we must, but I cannot allow you to lock him away."

"Thor, no one is suggesting we lock him up," Steve turned to her, suddenly uncertain, "are we?"

Natasha rest her elbows on her knees, curving her spine to peer into the boy's sleeping face. His features were so soft; delicate, for a boy. She imagined the muzzle they once forced him into – it would cover his eyes now; blinding and suffocating. She imagined him locked in the Raft; a dark, dank, windowless cell, his tiny body shivering from cold.

"No," she said, pulling the hem of her sleeve up over her palm to wipe the mess from the boy's cheeks and nose, not seeing the surprised glance exchanged between Steve and Bruce. "We won't."

Thor exhaled an audible sigh of relief, melting back into the couch like the weight of a mountain had just been lifted off his shoulders.

"I guess I'll, uh, get a spare room set up for you both." Steve jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, inching away from the scene.

"I'll help." Bruce offered, lumbering after the first Avenger. She could still hear them talking as they clambered up the stairs.

"We'll have to go into town too; get him some new clothes."

"Yeah, maybe some toys too."

"Oh! I think I still have my old colouring pencils in my room! Do you think he likes to draw?"

Natasha fought the urge to smile; it was the happiest she had heard Steve sound in four years. Perhaps some good would come of this strange turn of events after all.

Thor seemed to have fallen into his thoughts, his chin resting on interlocked hands as he stared intently at the sleeping boy. Natasha gave his shoulder a light squeeze as she passed. "Thank you, Natasha." She heard him mumble as she retreated from the room, and Natasha allowed herself a smile.

.

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

.

"Do you think we got enough?" Steve asked, eyeing the mountain of shopping bags in the boot of the SUV.

Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? _I_ could barely even fit in the back."

Ignoring Bruce, Steve began to gather bags into his arms. "I hope the clothes fit. Thor said he would be equivalent to a five or six year old, but he looks a little small for his age. I was too, and nothing ever fit me quite right."

"How do you know what's small for a hundred-and-something year old baby god?" Bruce teased, grinning.

"Do not worry, Captain," Thor's muffled voice came from the front of the car as he collected the bags at his feet. They were stuffed with a multitude of Thor paraphernalia: Thor t-shirts, Thor mugs, Thor pyjamas, a red Thor cape. "I got many sizes, so he can grow into them!"

Trying not to roll his eyes, Steve crunched through the fallen leaves to hurry inside.

"We're back!" Steve cried out as he trudged up the hall. He entered the room in a rustle of plastic bags and dumped his load on the dining table, Thor and Bruce following suit. Loki was now sitting up on the couch where they're left him, Natasha perched like a bird on the sofa's arm.

"Oh good, he's up. Hey Loki, we got you some stuff, come look!"

Loki glanced up at Nat, waiting for her to nod encouragingly before he slipped off the sofa and padded over to where Bruce and Thor were now upending the contents of the plastic bags all over the dining table.

"I hope you're going to clear that up." Nat threatened mildly as she moved to stand next to Steve, arms crossed over her chest. Steve, at least, had the decency to look sheepish.

Loki scooted up onto a chair, cradling his injured arm carefully. Bruce frowned, kneeling down by Loki's side to inspect the splint. "How's your arm? Is it hurting you?"

"No." Loki shook his head vehemently, reaching for something within the pile – a Rubik's cube.

"If it is, I can give you something for the pain. Would you want that?"

"No," he said again, moving his arm away from Bruce's touch, "Princes of Asgard should not show weakness."

An unpleasant air seemed to sift through the adults at the table, and Steve did not miss Thor's subtle reaction. His head bowed, as if in shame, and his hands curled into fists briefly before releasing.

Natasha was the one to break the awkwardness. "Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?" She asked gently, plastering a warm smile on her face. Loki gave a lopsided shrug, but then seemed to remember himself. His shoulders straightened, spine becoming rigid. "Yes, thank you..." He trailed off, gazing up at her expectantly, and it took Nat a second to realise he didn't know her name.

"I'm Natasha."

"Lady Natasha." He addressed her with a bow of his head, and Natasha tried and failed to quash her grin at his sudden princely manners. "I made pirozhki – do you like sweet or savoury?" Nat asked, already heading towards the kitchen.

"Sweet, please!" Loki declared; his attention already returned to the Rubik's cube in his hand.

Bruce took a deep whiff of the air. "Ahh, I thought that's what I could smell." Dutifully, he followed his nose in the same direction as Natasha.

Nat's exclamation followed a moment later. "Bruce!" There was the sharp slap of skin on skin. "None for you, you didn't eat your dinner last night."

"But you always put cabbage in it. I hate cabbage!"

Ignoring the arguing of his two housemates, Steve watched Loki turn the multicoloured cube over in his hands, studying it. "It's a puzzle, but you gotta mess it up first. Here." Gently, Steve took the toy from Loki and twisted it, spinning the panels until each side was a kaleidoscope of colours. "There. Now you have to put it back to the way it was." He handed the toy back to the kid. "It's a pretty hard puzzle though, don't feel bad if you can't get it. It took me months and months to do my first one."

Natasha bustled back out of the kitchen then, a plate of steaming, oval-shaped buns in her hand. She took a smaller plate from the stack Bruce was carrying, shimmied two buns onto it, and set it down in front of Loki. "Here Loki, this one is apple and this one is strawberry. Careful, they're hot."

"They are delicious Natasha!" Thor declared through puffed cheeks, having already shoved a meat-filled one down his gullet and well on his way to demolishing a second.

"Thanks Nat." Steve smiled gratefully, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder as he sat down beside Bruce and grabbed a plate for himself. Loki, much to Steve's delight, had now pulled the colouring pens and sketchbook from the pile, and was rotating between taking a bite of his pastry, colouring in a section, and fiddling with the Rubik's cube.

"How have things been in New Asgard, Thor?" Nat asked conversationally as she took a seat next to Steve.

Thor wiped crumbs from his beard with a napkin. "Ah, truthfully, I must admit Valkyrie has been handling much of the transition. But Asgardians are nothing if not resilient. I believe they have adjusted to the quiet, village life rather well."

Nat looked like she was going to ask something else, but was interrupted by the growl of an obnoxiously loud exhaust, which could only mean one thing.

Steve and Nat barely had time to exchange glances before the front door swung open.

"Hey Bruce! I fixed that ion-generator. You know, _my_ generator that _you_ broke." Stark appeared in the hallway, carrying a large, square, mechanical-looking box in one hand, and his daughter on the other hip. "The capacitors were overloading." He continued, "You know you're not meant to crank it up that high. I don't make 'em like I used to. As in, I'm not making you any more, so don't break this one, 'kay? Okay. Great. Is it lunch already?"

He set down both the box and the girl, and only then seemed to notice there was an oddly short Avenger at the table.

"Who's the kid?" Tony jabbed his thumb in Loki's direction, taking the chair next to Thor and spinning it around to straddle it. His daughter, immediately noticing the giant pile of toys, headed straight for it.

"One of you adopted a kid and forgot to tell me? Natasha?"

"Really, Stark?"

"Hi. Hi. Hello. I'm Morgan." Stark's kid ran straight up to Loki, a huge grin plastered across her sticky cheeks.

"Greetings, Lady Morgan." Loki slid from his chair to take her tiny hand, bowing low over it. "I am Prince Loki of Asgard. I am pleased to meet you. Would you... like to play?"

Morgan's eyes lit up like Christmas lights, and she nodded furiously. Loki handed her a green pencil and together they began to colour in a giraffe.

"Lok... wait, who..." Stark's head swung back and forth between the Asgardian and the dark-haired child now sitting on the floor next to his daughter. "Thor, that's not-"

"My brother, yes. He had somehow returned, de-aged."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Tony jerked from his seat. He yanked Morgan up off the floor, swinging her up into his arms. "No, Daddy! Put me down! I want to play. I want to play with Loki!" She cried, but her father paid her no heed.

"Somebody wanna tell me what the hell is going on here? Isn't he supposed to be dead? Is this some kind of Freaky Friday schtick? Ghosts? Are we doing ghosts now?"

"Tony!" Steve stood abruptly, his chair shooting back with a screech. "Just relax. It's fine, alright? Let Thor explain."

Stark rounded on Steve. "I don't take orders from you." He stated dispassionately, but he set his wailing daughter down on the ground. "Stay here, Maguna." He warned, grabbing hold of her hand before she could run off again. Loki only stared up at the adults quietly, not exactly sure what was going on, but aware enough to know that it was somehow about him.

"I promise you, Stark, my brother is not a threat." Thor rose from his chair, placing himself between Stark and Loki. "I found him wandering the streets of Norway. He has no memory of... before – of anything that has happened. He is only a child, please."

Dumbstruck, possibly for the first time ever, Stark could only turn his gaze from Thor to Bruce, to Nat, and finally, to Steve. "What, this is the Babysitter's Club now? You guys are all cool with this?"

"It might not be ideal but what were we supposed to do?" Natasha glared, arms crossed as she leant back in her seat.

"Oh, I don't know, _anything_ other than babysit a future megalomaniac?" Stark quipped, waving his hand around dramatically.

"Guys? Do you maybe wanna take this discussion elsewhere?" Steve piped up, surreptitiously jerking his head to where Loki was sitting on the floor, picking at the corner of one of the coloured blocks on the cube but very clearly listening to the conversation.

"Stark. Outside. Now." Tony apparently had no problems taking orders from Natasha.

Thor hesitated as Bruce and Natasha followed Tony out, his gaze lingering on his younger brother. "Go. I'll watch him." Steve offered, trying for a reassuring smile. Thor nodded once in thanks, before swiftly following after the others.

Moving around the table, Steve crouched down to pick up the colouring book, flicking through its pages. "Very nice linework. Do you like to draw?" Loki didn't raise his head, but continued fiddling with the Rubik. "I do. I can do portraits pretty good, but I'm not so good with landscapes. But I've been working on it."

Loki peered up slowly, confusion written all over his tiny features. "But... but warriors don't draw."

Steve frowned. "Who told you that?"

Loki shrugged, turning back to the puzzle in his hands. "Everyone... My Father. My friends. Thor."

"Well, some people think I'm a warrior, and _I_ like to draw. Do you wanna see?"

Loki hesitated, but then nodded slowly. Steve smiled. "C'mon. My room's upstairs."

Loki followed diligently, and Steve rummaged around in his chest of drawers, pulling out some of his old sketchbooks for Loki to flip through. The drawings were mostly of Peggy, a few of the guys from group therapy, some of his parents and... Bucky. He had tried his hand at a few nature and landscape sketches, but they always seemed so two-dimensional.

"Ah, here." Steve found what he was looking for, pulling a smaller sketchbook that he hadn't yet begun to fill from the drawer and holding it up triumphantly. "You can have this one."

Loki took it with an air of reverence, running the fingers of his good hand gently over the hard, plastic cover. "Thank you, Captain."

On a whim, Steve reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. "Just call me Steve."

"Thank you... Steve."

.

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

.

When Loki and Steve went back downstairs, the young girl, Morgan, was laying on the floor with her feet in the air, scribbling in the colouring book Loki had left.

"Oh, Morgan." Steve blinked in surprise. "Are you supposed to be in here? Did your dad let you inside?"

"Uh huh." Morgan nodded, not looking up from her drawing. Loki instantly heard the lie in her words; apparently the Captain did too, but he did nothing about it. Were children on Midgard not punished for lies?

Hesitantly, he sat by the girl, folding his legs inward. He picked up the strange little puzzle box, finding the repetitive twisting soothing. _417 permutations..._ He made a few more adjustments, locking in a line of yellow. _234... 159... 94..._

"Sorry daddy yelled at you. He didn't mean it." The young girl suddenly piped up, her drawings forgotten as she stared up at Loki with her chin in her hands.

"He was angry." Loki muttered quietly, his fingers stroking the edges of the cube. But Morgan shook her head; short, dark hair flouncing about.

"No, he's not angry. Daddy's just being silly."

Loki's brows lifted in shock, and he stared at the strange Midgardian girl. Did she not know that arguments led to anger, and anger led to punishment, and punishment led to tears, which led to more punishment, and round and round the serpent went, chasing its own tail.

The short, angry man came stomping back in then, though he did seem to look slightly less angry. Even so, Loki knew better than to make eye contact, and so kept his gaze intently on the cube in his hands.

_73... 42... 31..._

"Are we good now?" He heard the Captain ask.

"Good. Great. Exceptional. Sure, why not." The angry man retorted, but there was less venom in his words this time.

"Thank you, Stark." His brother's voice; "I do not take this lightly."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't let him ruin my floors this time. These are hardwood, you know?"

Uncertainly, Loki got to his feet. He went around the table, towards his brother, but kept an eye on the angry man at all times, just in case. Not sure what else to do with it, he set the completed cube on the table in front of Captain Steve. Steve's eyes went wide, and he suddenly choked on the cup of water at his lips, coughing and spluttering. "Bruce! Look!" The Captain called the green giant over, and Loki backed up a step, cold fear suddenly dripping down his spine. _Oh no_ , had he done something wrong? Had he offended the Midgardians? He would be punished. He would be punished...

"Wow, that's incredible! I can't even do one that quick. Good job, buddy!" The big Hulk raised a hand, and Loki flinched, curling over his broken arm as meagre protection against the incoming blow. But it never came.

Curiously, he peered up. The giant had lowered his hand, silence falling upon the table. He couldn't quite read the expression of the adults, but they looked almost... sad? Why? Was it something he did?

"Hey, Morgs? Do you wanna watch a movie?" Lady Natasha broke the tension, moving away from the angry man and towards his daughter.

"Yes please! Yes please! Elsa, Elsa, Elsa!" The girl cried, neglecting her pencils in favour of jumping up and down excitedly.

"Loki, would you like to join us?"

Confused, Loki looked up at his brother. "It is like illusions Korg was showing you. It is a form of storytelling, for entertainment." Thor explained.

Loki nodded in understanding, curiously following Lady Natasha and Lady Morgan to another room. This room was dark, the windows covered by heavy curtains that blocked out the sun. Across one wall hung a black rectangle, like the one Korg had, but much larger.

"How about we let Loki pick the movie this time?" Lady Natasha suggested, picking up a smaller rectangle and, with a few flicks of her fingers, the rectangle on the wall sparked to life. Images appeared in an ordered fashion across the screen, all with words written beneath. Loki drifted closer, reading everything he could.

"Which story would you like to see, Loki?"

The small picture of a strange, blue creature caught his eye, reminding him oddly of a Vrölmir cub. Next to it stood a young girl, a flower in her long, dark hair. There were two words beneath the picture, but they meant nothing to him. He pointed at the blue animal. "This one?" He asked softly, hoping this was not some kind of test and he had made the wrong choice.

"Lilo and Stitch? Sure. You good with this one, Morgs?"

"Yeah! Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!" Young Morgan cried, scrambling up onto the large lounging seat that took up half the room. The illusions began to move on the screen, images dancing like animated sorcery. Lady Natasha patted the cushion next to her; an invitation for him to join. He complied, perching on the edge of the seat with a rigidity in his spine that had been instilled in him since he could walk.

About ten minutes into the movie – just after the captive "abomination" had escaped imprisonment – Thor shuffled in and took the seat next to him. Captain Steve joined him, followed by Bruce of the Hulk, who stretched out across the floor, and, to Loki's surprise, the angry man, Stark.

Loki didn't miss the way Stark glanced his way every few minutes, but he also noticed the Stark man wasn't the only one. Without turning her head, Lady Natasha watched him out of the corner of her eye, and he felt his brother's gaze on the back of his head more than once. Loki pretended not to notice. He was quite good at pretending. Though, as the fascinating story about an evil monstrosity becoming friends with a lonely girl who only ever wanted a real family drew him in, he found himself pretending less and less.

Later that night, long after young Morgan and her father had gone home, Thor showed him to his new room, fluffing up his pillows like Mother used to do. "Thoooor," Loki whined, rolling his eyes, "I don't need you to tuck me in, I'm not a baby."

Thor only chuckled, patting the sheets as he took a seat at the foot of the bed. Despite his dissent, Loki climbed into the bed anyway, dressed in the pyjamas Steve had bought him. It wasn't as big, nor as soft and comfortable, as his bed from home, but it was certainly better than anything he'd slept on for the past three moons.

"I know that, brother, but I have missed you. Let me have this one indulgence, hm?" Loki only grumbled, snuggling down beneath the sheets.

"Thor?" He asked softly, his voice uncertain.

"Hmm?"

"That story – the _moo-vie_ – there's one thing I don't understand."

"What's that, Loki?"

"Why did they want that creature in their family anyway? He wasn't _really_ family, he didn't belong there, and he only destroyed things. Why didn't they send him back?" Thor stared at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and Loki wondered if perhaps it was a question he wasn't supposed to ask.

"He may not have been born into that family, Loki, but that does not mean they loved him any less. In fact, perhaps you could say they loved him all the more, because they _chose_ him to be a part of their family." Thor reached down, pulling the blanket higher over Loki's shoulders and brushing the dark, messy hair from his face. "No one is unworthy of love, Loki. Remember that."

Loki nodded, satisfied with his answer. Thor made to leave, dousing the room's lighting as he did so. "Sleep well, brother."

In a strange bed, in a strange room, on a strange planet, Loki thought of the little blue creature, waiting alone in a forest for his parents to come find him. He suddenly wished for Mother, and even Father. Wished for them to come and find him, to take him home to his own bed, and his own room, and his own brother. He wished for his Mother to tuck him in, to read him stories until he fell asleep, to stroke his hair as he dreamt. But she was dead, and he would never have that again.

Loki's chest burned and his eyes stung, but he refused to shed the tears that threatened there. _Princes of Asgard don't cry._ Loki hugged the pillow tighter to his chest.

_Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten._

At least he still had Thor.

. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

. 

_“Thor?_ _Thor,_ _where are you?” Loki called again, eyes desperately scanning the thick forest around him, praying for a flash of red shirt or golden hair. Loki had never been this deep into the Wailing Woods before; he was unfamiliar with these trees, unfamiliar with this land. He knew from his schooling that the Wailing Woods bordered the Darkling Forest, but he couldn’t tell how far he’d wandered, or in what direction. All he knew was that you were never to be in the Darkling Forest at night._

 _“Thor, you win! I give up!” They’d been at this game of Hunt the Frost Giant for hours now, and Loki still had yet to find Thor._ This is why he never lets you be the Hunter _, Loki thought viciously,_ you truly are the worst brother. _He’d been ecstatic when Thor had let him be the Hunter this time; he and Sif_ always _made Loki be the Frost Giant._

 _“Sif! You can come out now! I gave up already!” There was no answer, and Loki realised suddenly that even the constant_ _twittering_ _of birds had long disappeared. Panic fluttered within him, making him feel like he would divulge the contents of his stomach had there been anything in it. His stomach rumbled in agreement, despite his_ _queasiness_ _._

 _“Thor? Can we go home now?” Loki cursed the way his voice wavered, sounding small and pathetic, but fear was beginning to sink her poisonous teeth into his heart. The forest seemed to grow thicker, darker; filled with more and more of the ghostly gums with their pale, white trunks. Their branches stretched out far overhead, leaving him not even a way to climb to the top. It grew very dark very quickly; the dense_ _foliage_ _blocked out the last remaining light even before the sun had fully set, and once it was dark, it was no longer completely silent._

 _W_ _hispers began to follow him, whistling between the tree trunks and rustling the branches. At first, he told himself it was just the wind, until he_ _realised_ _he could feel no breeze on his skin._ _They chattered in his ear, saying nothing he could understand, or even anything he recognised as words, despite the_ _Allspeak_ _, and he realised they must not be words at all. Just an endless, quiet warning._

_Panic began to claw at his chest, and he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths to prevent himself from hyperventilating. Logic and reason would trump fear, he reminded himself, and yet, he did not call out for his brother again._

_Though Loki could see perfectly well in the dark, still he conjured a bright ball of light to his hand, wanting the warm glow to give him some sentimental comfort. The light chased away the immediate shadows, yet created more still. It lit up the pale trees, making their trunks glow like moonlight in the dark, eerie and haunting. Yet at the edge of where the light failed to reach, shadows seemed to move. H_ _e_ _thought_ _he_ _caught_ _glimpses of it, but when his eyes focussed on the spot, he could see nothing but darkness, and tried to convince himself that he had imagined it._

_Loki's heart pounded in his chest, all his senses so hyper alert that a single breath of wind might have caused him to combust. His steady trudging through the woods had slowed to a slinking crawl, each footstep carefully placed to ensure absolute silence. The ball of light in Loki’s hand began to dim, and he tried to force more of his magic_ _into_ _the spell, but the darkness_ _seemed_ _to press down on him like a physical weight that he could not fight against._

_The light sputtered and died, and suddenly, the whispering stopped. The hair on the back of his neck stood to attention, and somehow, Loki’s body knew that the dead silence was worse than the whispering._

_Loki bolted._

_He ran and ran, fear forcing his aching legs to move faster. His racing heart jumped in his throat and the metallic tang of blood coated the back of his tongue. Out the corner of his eye he could see things following him; shadows that sprang from ghostly tree to ghostly tree, keeping pace with his frantic sprint. Behind him, something growled; something ancient and terrifying and evil. A sob burst from Loki’s throat, and tears carved cold tracks that he couldn’t feel down his numb face. His magic lashed out in panicked spikes, uncontrolled and desperate, and some still-sane part of his brain tried to force some of it into his legs, making his feet fly across the unsteady ground._

_The fear is mind-numbing, reducing all his senses to a single thought of_ runrunrunrun, getawaygetawaygetaway, _knowing with certainty that if he died here, they would never find his body. No golden brother would come to look for him. No furious father would come to save him. The only friend he had was himself._

_Loki ran and ran, his mind so clouded by cloying terror that he didn’t notice when the shadows began to disappear, or when the trees began to thin, melting into thick greenery and bursts of coloured flowers and shrubs. He didn’t notice the return of birdsong, nor the babbling of a stream somewhere nearby. He didn’t notice until he burst through the edge of the forest to see the sky lightening above the dark_ _silhouettes_ _of home; twilight fading into the blue hour and flooding his soul with a_ _relief_ _so powerful that his shaking limbs gave out._

_Loki collapsed at the wood’s edge, holding onto consciousness just long enough to see the first hints of sunlight set the golden roofs of Asgard alight with a fire that chased away the shadows._

_Home._


	3. Growing Pains

The next morning, Bruce arose to the smell of frying bacon. The gurgling of his stomach led him downstairs to find Steve fussing about the kitchen, a floral apron wrapped around his waist. Nat was already up, perched at the bench and reading a news report on a tablet. 

“Morning all!” He chirped, taking a deep whiff of the air. “Mmm, smells good Steve.” 

“Thought I’d give Nat a break from all the cooking.” Steve grinned, waving the spatula in the assassin’s direction. She only grunted in response, taking a deep drag from her bright red mug. 

“Our Asgardian houseguests aren’t up yet?” Bruce rummaged in the cupboard for his favourite mug and poured himself some freshly-brewed java. As if Bruce had summoned him, Thor appeared in the doorway, stretching his arms above his head and revealing the few extra pounds he’d put on over the last few years. “Good morning, my friends!” He boomed cheerfully, hefting his weight on to the stool next to Natasha. 

“Hey Thor. Loki still sleeping?” 

Thor nodded, glancing up in the vague direction of Loki’s room. “Yes, I thought it best to let him sleep. I don’t think he’s had much of it in recent times – even before he returned.” Natasha finally glanced up from her tablet, subtly eyeing the Asgardian king. 

Bruce heard a door upstairs creak open, then uncertain footsteps on the landing. “Ah, sounds like he’s up.” 

“Good,” Steve said, plating up bacon and eggs onto four separate plates, “breakfast is ready.” 

“Um, Thor?” Loki’s voice called out as he stepped into the kitchen. 

“Good morning, brother! How did you-” 

Steve dropped the forks with a clatter and Bruce set his mug down a little too hard, making hot coffee slosh over the sides. Loki rubbed at his eyes, but this Loki was not the same Loki that Thor had tucked into bed the night before. This was now a young boy nearing adolescence. He had sprouted up at least a foot and a half, the roundness of youth gone from his face and his hair longer, curling under his ears. His pyjamas from last night – Captain America ones that Bruce had thought were hilarious – were now much too small, rising up above his ankles and wrists. 

“I’m sorry Captain Steve; it seems the clothes _don’t_ actually fit.” Loki shrugged apologetically, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. 

“What on Earth...” 

“Loki, what happened?” In a stunned stupor, Thor went over to his brother, circling him with interest like he was inspecting a new car. 

“I don’t know.” Loki frowned down at himself, as if expecting the answer to jump out of his pyjamas. “I just woke up like this.” 

Thor laid a hand on his shoulder and stooped to peer intently into his brother’s eyes. “And how do you feel?” 

Loki shrugged, flexing the fingers on his once-broken arm. “Well, I think. I feel... hungry.” 

Wiping the coffee residue off on the back of his pants, Bruce lumbered over to remove the now-too-small cast from the boy’s arm. He felt gingerly along the bandages, palpating for any signs of distortion or unfinished healing, but found none. “Seems like this is healed now, but I’d like to check you over, just to be safe.” 

“After breakfast.” Steve ordered matronly, pointing his spatula at Bruce. Bruce had no arguments with that, and apparently, neither did either Asgardian. The younger prince put away just as much as the older one, surprising everyone and forcing Steve to throw another batch on the stove. 

“Loki, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you eat like a true warrior!” Thor laughed around his mouthful of eggs, thumping Loki on the back. “You might’ve even given Volstagg a run for his money.” 

“His metabolism must be in overdrive right now,” Bruce theorised, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “he probably woke up starving.” Loki could only nod to confirm the suggestion, his mouth too full for a reply. 

“I would definitely like to run some tests. If this is some kind of spell or magic or whatever, does this mean it’s wearing off?” Bruce asked, looking to Thor to supply an answer. Thor chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “It is possible.” Thor concurred, nodding. 

“Alright, come on then.” He prodded Loki up the stairs, “I know it’s magic, but magic means power, so there must be some kind of energy readings I can get off you, residual radioactivity, _something_...” Bemusedly, Loki followed him into his lab, chewing on a piece of toast, Thor not far behind. 

Bruce spent the better part of two hours scanning, testing, poking and prodding – he even took blood samples – but for all intents and purposes, Loki appeared to be a normal, healthy, Asgardian boy, physically around eleven or twelve years of age. His arm was completely healed; not even a trace of the break could be found on the x-ray. Bruce exhaled through his nose, polishing his glasses out of habit. “Well, he appears to be fine. The only abnormality I could find was that his blood count is a little high. His cells seem to be reproducing slightly faster than normal, but then again, I have no idea what the miotic rate for an Asgardian is supposed to be anyway, so...” Bruce ended with a shrug. 

Thor nodded absently, tugging at his beard as he stared thoughtfully at a speck on the floor. Steve had left for group therapy an hour ago, as was his routine, and Natasha was perched on a stool in the corner of the room, her cup of tea in one hand as she scrolled through news clippings with the other, but Bruce knew she was watching. Sometimes he thought she lived up to her namesake. Like a spider up in the corner, seemingly unaware of the daily goings-on below as she spins her web, but always ready to catch a fly. Once upon a time, he had been that fly. 

He glanced up at her quickly, not wanting her to catch him staring. The blonde ends of her strangely two-toned hair curling over her shoulder as she lifted the mug to her lips. Once upon a time, he had _wanted_ to be that fly. But he’d run away instead, like a coward, and then the world fell apart, and neither of them had had the willpower to put the pieces back together. 

_For the best_ , he reminded himself, turning back to the bloodwork in his hand. 

“I feel fine.” Loki repeated for what was probably the hundredth time. He was wandering around Bruce’s lab with intrigue; studying Bruce’s centrifuge, peering down his microscope, flicking his Bunsen burner on and off with fascination. He approached a smooth, metal box laid out on a bench. He felt around it for an opening, a clasp of some kind, but found none. Curiously, he laid a hand on it, able to feel the buzzing of energy below the metal surface, making his skin tingle. 

Bruce’s gaze whipped around as he heard the snap of electricity. He sucked in a gasp, the paperwork he was holding dropping from his hands. “Loki, don’t touch-!” But it was too late for that. 

“DUCK!” He shouted, even as Thor made a grab for his brother and Natasha flipped off her seat to roll under a bench. Bruce threw up an arm to shield himself from the blast as Tony’s newly rebuilt ion generator went up in a flash of blue light and a plume of smoke. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, stinging his eyes and making him choke. He waved it away, coughing. “Loki? Thor? Nat?” He called blindly as the emergency response systems activated and the vents began to pull the smoke from the air. 

Nat’s head popped up from beneath the bench. “I’m good.” 

“Loki?” He called again as the smoke cleared, crossing the room to where Thor’s large figure was hunched over a smaller one. Thor held his brother at arm’s length, checking him over with a panicked expression. Loki’s clothes were singed, his face smeared with soot, and his hair stood on its end like he had just stuck a fork in a toaster. He coughed as Thor patted him on the back. 

“Are you alright?” Bruce knelt down before the youngster, concerned. 

“I... I...” Loki stared down at his blackened hands. A green spark zipped from one finger to another, crackling like static. A slow grin pulled across Loki’s face, his vibrant green eyes alight and dancing. “I think I have my magic back!” 

“Ohhh boy, Tony is not gonna like this...” 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

Tony Stark most certainly did _not_ like this. Nope. Nada. Zip. Not _one_ iota of this whole ridiculous after-school-special seemed like a good idea to him. Okay, yeah, he _was_ just a kid now. And okay, yeah, he _did_ save Bruce and Thor and all his people that one time. And okay, yeah, so he _sacrificed_ his life to fight Thanos. Whoopdee-freaking-doo. The guy flipped from good to evil so often that he might as well have been a damn yo-yo. And now he’s here, blowing up Tony’s stuff. _Again._

Tony glanced up just to narrow his eyes at the aforementioned kid sitting on the exam table, sans shirt, looking like a picture out of _Modern Medical Miracles_ with all the wires and electrode sticking out of him. This baby-faced Loki only stared back at him, eyes wide and innocent, picking at the sandwich Natasha had brought him. Tony didn’t believe it for a second. 

“Do it.” 

As instructed, Loki snapped his fingers and the Bunsen burner on the other side of the room sprang aflame. 

“See, Bruce! There!” Tony pointed excitedly to a blip on the screen he was holding. 

“I don’t know Tony...” Bruce peered down at the screen from over his shoulder. 

“Are you the energy expert? No. You’re the expert of gamma and... green things. Trust me, ever since Demi-goddess and his brother over here fell to Earth, there’s been quite a bit of research into figuring out the hoo-doo of it all.” Tony said, waggling his fingers at Bruce. “And this is definitely hoo-doo. Look at this.” He shoved the tablet at Bruce as he pushed by to rummage in the pile of textbooks and reference material. “Where is it, where is it – Selvig wrote a paper on – ah, there it is!” He marched back over to Bruce and shoved the paper into his hands as well. “Selvig’s paper on Quantum Mechanics of Interdimensional Particle Acceleration and the Effect on Biomass. It’s a quick read, promise.” He turned back to see Loki thumbing through one of the textbooks on the top of the pile. 

“Is he reading my book? Are you reading my textbook? Bruce, he’s reading my textbook. Hey! No eating over my books! That’s a first edition you know. Sticky little fingers _off_.” Tony slapped the hands away, fixing some of the electrodes that the little terror had dislodged from his chest. 

“How exactly is this supposed to help us, anyway?” Natasha’s voice asked from her perch in the corner, and Tony tried not to jump. He had forgotten she was even there. Creepy little spy. 

“Well,” Bruce answered for him, “we’re hoping that if we can pinpoint a frequency that represents Loki’s _own_ magic, then we might be able to tell if there’s someone _else’s_ magic at work here. If there's a frequency that doesn’t match Loki’s signature, then we’ll know someone else did this to him.” 

Natasha raised a judgy eyebrow. “But that won’t help us reverse it.” 

“Er, no.” Bruce admitted. 

“And if he did this to himself?” 

“Er, well, I don’t know that we’ll be able to tell that either...” 

“Hey, Spanish Inquisition, are you done? Can I get back to work now?” Tony rolled his eyes, turning back to fiddling with the frequency modulator. Natasha ignored him, slinking from her seat to inspect the Bunsen burner curiously. “How does it work, anyway? Do you just think about it, and it happens?” 

“It is a simple thermogenesis spell. You just have to make the molecules in the air vibrate fast enough to combust.” Loki answered, sounding like he was reciting a textbook from memory. “It is easier if there is a fuel source to ignite, but not strictly necessary.” He glanced up at Tony, eyeing him thoughtfully. “The gel in your hair, for example, would be very combustible.” 

Out of instinct, Tony patted down his hair, expecting flames to burst from his head at any second. He pointed a menacing finger at the kid. “Don’t. Even. Think about it.” Loki only shrugged, an impish grin pulling at his lips. 

“Okay, Bruce, let’s try something else. Put the dampeners way up this time. See if there’s any residual response.” 

“Okay.” Bruce nodded, tapping away at the tablet in his hands. Tony took a few steps back from the kid and hit record on the monitor. “Day 3, Fantasia Project, Log 52. Okay, Harry Potter, you ready?” Loki nodded. “Three, two-” 

Loki screamed. 

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” 

“I haven't even turned it _on_ yet. It wasn’t me.” 

“Loki? Loki!” 

Loki was hunched in on himself, even as Natasha tried to pry him upright to see what was wrong. His face was buried in his hands, and a cold horror froze in Tony’s veins as blood leaked from between the boy’s fingers, dripping down his elbows to splatter on the floor. He whimpered in pain, every few seconds emitting a half-swallowed scream. 

“Loki? What happened? Let me see. Let me see.” Bruce coaxed, trying to pull the boy’s hands away from his face as gently as possible. 

Thunderous footsteps pounded up the hall as Thor skidded into the doorway, Steve a few steps behind. “What has happened? I heard screaming?” Thor looked like he was about to smash something with his bare hands, and Tony didn’t need any more of his lab destroyed, thank-you-very-much. “Whoa, big guy. We’re not sure. He just started-” From behind him, Tony heard a sharp intake of air, followed by Bruce’s alarmed hiss. “Uh, _Tony..._ ” 

“What?” Tony whirled around, then froze. Bruce had managed to pull the boy’s bloody hands away from his face. Tears ran in thick turrets down the boy’s cheeks, only to mingle with the blood smeared across the bottom half of his face, making him look like something out of _28 Days Later_. The worst of it came from his mouth; darker rivulets of deep claret poured from several, evenly-spaced tears around his upper and lower lips, dribbling down over his chin. 

“Oh, Norns...” Thor breathed. 

“ _How_ did...” 

“Thor, we didn’t... I swear we didn’t-” 

“Loki, what happened? What-” 

“ _Nidavellir_.” Thor breathed quietly, brushing past Tony to crouch before his brother. 

“Gesundheit. Come again?” 

But Thor had eyes only for his brother. “Oh Norns, I’m so sorry Loki, I’m so sorry they did this to you.” Thor spoke in a whisper, his voice on the verge of breaking. “I’m so sorry you have to endure this again.” 

“Again? What do you mean again?” 

“Is this like what happened to his arm?” 

“What happened to his arm?” 

“It must be. Nat grab my first aid kit and some gauze. Steve – towels.” 

“Will somebody _please_ tell me what the hell is going on?!” Tony almost shouted, the mounting stress levels in the room itching at his skin like sandpaper. 

“That was the wager.” Thor stood to move out of the way so Bruce could work, staunching the worst of the bleeding. 

“What? What are you talking about?” 

“This was... my fault.” Thor picked up a discarded towel and attempted to wipe Loki’s blood from his hands. “Many, many years ago, when we were young boys, we... _I_ found out that I was to inherit Mjölnir when I came of age. We wanted to see it in action, and, foolishly, we stole it from Father’s vault – before it was enchanted. We travelled to Nidavellir, realm of the Dwarves, in search of a battle. Instead I... I lost my hammer. We knew Father would be furious; we were terrified he would punish us harshly. Loki said he would barter with the Dwarves to return my hammer. I waited at the mouth of that cave for hours...” Thor twisted the towel in his hands over and over until threads began to loosen from his worrying. “Loki returned with my hammer... but he wouldn’t speak to me. I thought he was angry at me. He locked himself in his room for three days – he would not speak, he would not eat. Eventually, I became so terrified that I went to Mother; I told her everything.” 

“Nat, hand me that syringe. Loki, I'm gonna give you something for the pain now, okay? Hold out your arm... that’s it. This will help.” 

Thor trailed off watching Bruce pack the wounds with gauze and tape, a mound of blood-stained towels at his feet. The Asgardian’s voice was rough when he started up again. “In return for my hammer, Loki had bartered his own voice. The Dwarves... they sewed his lips shut.” Apart from Loki’s faint whimpering, there was dead silence in the room. Tony could practically _taste_ the horror in the air – sharp and acidic. 

“He-he cast a glamour, so that no one would see, no one would notice... When Mother found him...” The towel in Thor’s grip finally gave way, tearing with a sound that set Tony’s teeth on edge. The Asgardian stared at the bloody rags in his hands, eyes unfocussed. “There was _so much_ blood...” 

Gently, Natasha laid a hand on the Thunderer’s shoulder, pulling him from the haunting memory. He tossed the towel into the pile with the others and straightened his shoulders. “Loki had tried to cut the thread, but it was Dwarven-made and spelled by old magic. It took the All-Mother herself two days to unweave the binding magic.” 

In the heavy silence, Tony glanced over at the sorcerer. He was no longer whimpering; the morphine beginning to take effect. His eyes, glassy and unfocussed, still flickered from face to face uncertainly, watching them. His face, though deathly pale, still so young and innocent – no trace of the half-crazed alien that blew a hole in the sky over a decade ago. For a moment, Tony imagined Morgan in his place – her screams as her lips are sewn shut, blood staining her favourite pink dress – and he barely supressed the urge to be violently ill. 

Bruce stood, laying a comforting hand on Thor’s shoulder. “You can take him to his room now,” he offered in hushed tones, “I’ve given him something for the pain. It will make him sleep.” Nodding, Thor said nothing more, only scooped his brother into his arms and carried him from the lab, his expression drawn and troubled. 

The four Avengers left standing in the lab looked anywhere but at each other, the tension palpable. From the corner of his eye, Tony noticed Bruce’s fists clenching, knuckles turning lime green from the strain. Had it been the old Bruce Banner, Tony would have been concerned for a Hulk-out. As it was, he decided it couldn't hurt to check. “Hey, you good there, Jolly Green?” 

For a minute, it looked like Bruce might Hulk-out anyway and smash the room to pieces, but instead, he released his fists with a sigh. “No.” He answered truthfully. Tony stared down at his loafers, trying to erase the image of a pale boy with a blood-stained face from his mind’s eye. He reached up to pat his old friend on a meaty arm absently. “Me either, buddy. Me either.” 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

It was days before Natasha saw either Asgardian again. Thor holed up in Loki’s room, only ever coming out to bring back food. They occasionally let Bruce in; to check on the boy and re-dress his wounds, but otherwise, the house felt like it was filled with ghosts. They even haunted Natasha’s dreams. 

_A child with flaming red hair being held underwater, struggling against the rough hands that held her even as she took in water..._

_Small hands bandaging another injury. Ivan would scold her for being so careless, for being so weak..._

_The sting of a blade as she sparred against two boys twice her age. All those eyes, watching her, waiting for her to fail... Then, among the crowd, there is another face, a face she has never seen there before, yet looks so familiar. A face with dark hair and vibrant green eyes, and a mouth dripping with blood..._

So it was no surprise that Natasha had already been up for hours when the brothers finally descended from their sanctuary. Bruce, Steve and Natasha were stewing in sullen silence at the table, the only noise Steve’s crunching as he ate his cereal, or the occasional slurp as Natasha sipped her tea. 

Natasha heard Thor coming before she saw him. “Good morning all,” Thor tried for his usual chipper gusto, but it fell rather flat, “may we join you?” Thor steered Loki into the room with his hands on his shoulders. The little princeling refused to meet anyone’s gaze as he took a seat at the table, but Natasha still saw the scars. Though mostly healed, the torture had left red and raised lines to mar the smoothness of his skin. _Magic leaves a mark_ , she supposed. 

Loki ate little, despite Thor’s mothering insistence. He stirred his cereal with his spoon idly, and, the instant Thor’s back was turned, made it disappear with the twitch of a finger. 

“I saw that.” Natasha murmured out the corner of her mouth, pretending to be very interested in today’s new feed. A cheeky smile pulled at his scarred lips, and Natasha returned it secretively. “Hey, I have an errand to run today. Would you like to come with?” She looked up to see Steve giving her a concerned look, but quelled him with a tiny twitch of her head. “If it’s okay with your brother, that is?” She added as an afterthought. 

Thor beamed at her. “Yes, of course. We will both accompany you.” 

When they were done with breakfast, Natasha had the boys load three large boxes into the back of her SUV. Curious, Loki took a peek in one. “These are my old clothes?” 

“Yep. You’re too big for them now. We’re gonna take them down to the orphanage. They always need new stuff.” 

Loki’s little nose scrunched up. “What’s an orphanage?” 

Natasha chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering how best to put it. “It’s a place for children... who’ve lost their mothers and fathers.” 

“Like me?” 

“Yes, technically.” She admitted, opening the back door to let him scramble in. “But you’ve got Thor. And us. The kids in the orphanage... they don’t have any other family, so they have to wait until a new one comes to get them.” 

Loki frowned at this. “A new... family?” 

“That’s right.” She nodded as she buckled him in, then paused. “See, something bad happened a while back, and a lot of kids lost their parents, but a lot of parents lost their kids too. So the orphanage tries to put the two together.” 

“But... they’re not _really_ family. How can they be? They’re not related.” 

Surprised, Natasha glanced up at Thor in the front seat, catching the elder brother’s grimace. “Loki,” Thor tried, “do you remember what I said before? About _choosing_ your family?” 

“Oh.” Loki nodded, “I see. On Asgard, the children whose parents die in battle are always taken in by relatives.” He told Natasha, “But sometimes if a baby is cursed it is born deformed. Those ones are... not chosen by anyone. Their parents leave them at the edge of the Wailing Woods as an offering to the forest sprites. Remember that time we found one on a hunt, Thor? And we tried to sneak it into the castle? But Father heard it crying in our bedchambers and made us go put it back. Remember, Thor? Father said... Father said a Prince of Asgard should not be so... softhearted.” 

His little face fell, forlorn, and Natasha had no words of comfort to offer him. What could she say? What could she tell the boy with the soft heart? The one who would grow into the man with the heart of ice? As she climbed into the driver’s seat, she sent Thor a scorching look. He stiffened in response, properly chastised without her having to utter a word. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

“Fara! You around?” Natasha called out as she stepped into the foyer of the old, Colonial-style estate, her voice echoing up the staircase. She moved to set her box down against the wall, and spotted two dark heads of hair peeking out from behind the archway. “Laila. Kyra.” She greeted the twins, “Is your mother around?” The girls only ducked back into their hiding spot, giggling and whispering, as Loki and Thor followed her inside. 

“Girls!” Came a heavily accented voice from up the stairs. “Shouldn’t you two be in class, ah?” The large Nigerian woman put on a stern face, her heels clopping on the wooden staircase. Laughing, the girls ran off, their footsteps echoing down the long hall. 

“Got a few more things for you.” Natasha said just before Fara enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, what an angel you are, lovie. Such a good girl.” She released Natasha to turn her attention to the brothers. “And who have you brought me today, ah? Such handsome young men.” She eyed Thor appreciatively, and Natasha had to smother a smirk as the large Asgardian shuffled his feet uncomfortably. 

“This is Thor, and his brother, Loki. They’re, ah, staying with us for a while.” 

Fara knelt before Loki; warm, honey-coloured eyes searching his face, landing briefly on the scars around his lips. “This one,” she said after a moment, “this one walks an uncertain path.” 

Slightly alarmed, Thor’s gaze swung from Fara to Natasha. “Fara has a bit of a superpower.” Natasha leaned in closer to the thunder god to explain. “She can see people’s futures.” 

“Not their futures, exactly.” Fara corrected, brushing off her skirts as she rose to her feet. “I can’t _see_ things, per say – the future is too fluid for that. It’s more of a feeling, I suppose. A sense of one’s destiny.” 

“Ah.” Thor nodded suddenly, understanding. “A Seer. We have those on Asgard. Had. Had those on Asgard.” 

“Mother was a Seer.” Loki said, so quietly Natasha almost missed it. 

“Indeed, she was.” Thor laid a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Though she never revealed her prophecies.” 

“Probably a wise decision.” Fara agreed, head tilting to the side as she regarded the once-king before her. “Prophecy, fate, predestination – they are as complex as the weavings of a spider, and twice as fragile. They are hard to read, and even more difficult to interpret correctly. But, when I look at you,” her gaze flicked to Loki, and then to Natasha, “all of you, I see the importance of the part you have to play. What that part is, I cannot tell you.” Her eyes locked on to Natasha, and the spy felt the golden stare burn right through her. 

“I think I understand.” Thor said, bowing his head slightly. Loki glanced up at his brother, his brow crinkled in confusion. Thor only smiled at him, ruffling his dark hair and causing Loki to glower as he attempted to smooth it back down again. 

“Will I see you at the New Year fundraiser?” Fara asked suddenly, raising a well-plucked brow. 

“Ah, yes, I think so.” Natasha quickly nodded, “Barring any national emergencies, I suppose.” 

Fara clapped her hands together in delight, the bracelets around her wrists jingling merrily. “Fantastic! The children are so excited! And please, give my thanks to Tony again. Honestly, that man is the only thing that’s kept this place running sometimes.” Fara chuckled, and Natasha returned a polite smile. “Will do, Fara.” She said, waving her goodbye to the woman as they headed back out into the cold. 

“Natasha,” Fara called softly, catching her briefly by the arm before she could step out the door. “There is one more thing. That boy,” her golden gaze flickered to the back of Loki’s dark head as he and his brother strolled out onto the patio. “The future I saw... makes no sense. I have never seen anything like it.” Natasha’s eyes were drawn to the two brothers; joyfully oblivious to whatever ominous fate awaited them. 

The beginnings of winter whipped through the trees as Natasha stepped outside, Fara’s warning still ringing in her ears. She tugged the collar of her jacket up higher, though the leather could do nothing against the icy finger of dread that scratched at the back of her neck. 

As they made their way back towards the car, gravel crunching underfoot, Natasha craned her neck back to survey the sky. Dark, blue-grey clouds were gathering overhead, heavy with the signs of an oncoming storm. “Looks like it might snow early this year.” 

Loki followed her gaze upward, almost tipping over backward. “It doesn’t snow in Asgard. Only in some of the mountains on Vanaheim. And Jotunheim, of course. But no one would ever go there, that’s where the hideous Frost Giants live. Right Thor?” 

The boy looked up over his shoulder for his brother's confirmation, but Thor had frozen abruptly, his face paling to an ashen grey. Loki slowed, his excitement turning to concern. “Thor?” 

Something like terror flitted across Thor’s expression – a look she had never seen on the warrior prince. Guilt followed, his mouth twisting in a pained grimace, before his features settled in benign resignation. He dropped to one knee before his brother, raising an enormous hand to rest on Loki’s slender shoulder. “Listen well, brother. Our father was at war, he only did what he did in order to save more innocent lives. It has been many centuries since then, and we should not fault the Frost Giants for the actions of their ancestors. They are people too, and deserve to live as such. We can not tarnish a whole race with one brush.” 

Loki’s dark brows furrowed, the purse of his lips making the scars pucker. “But, you said... you once said you would slay all the Frost Giants when you were old enough. Aren’t you old enough now, Thor? Didn’t you kill all the monsters?” 

“Oh Loki. No.” Thor shook his shaggy head, encasing his brother’s tiny wrists in his hands. “I was a fool, then. I was ignorant and stupid and did not know what I was saying. The Jötnar are not monsters, Loki, they are just people – no different to us, or the Vanir, or the Ljósalfar, or the Midgardians. Do you understand?” 

Loki’s little face scrunched up. “But Father said-” 

“Father was wrong.” Thor interrupted quickly, “He was wrong, Loki. They are not our enemy. They are not monsters. Being born in a certain realm or having a different skin colour does not make them monsters. They are just as much a part of the Nine as any of us. And a Prince of Asgard is a protector of _all_ realms.” 

Loki frowned down at his shoes, picking absently at one of his scars. “A protector...” He raised his head then, folding his hands behind his back as his posture stiffened. “I understand, Thor.” 

“Good.” Thor grinned, quietly relieved as he placed a hand around the back of Loki’s neck to briefly touch their foreheads together. “Good.” 

As Loki jumped up and situated himself in the backseat, Natasha shot Thor a sharp look across the hood of the car. His face pulled tight in the echo of a grimace, and he nodded once at her. “I know.” His gaze wandered to the small, dark-haired boy with the scarred face, waiting patiently in the back seat. “I know.” 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

As the rain blanketed the facility that night, cocooning them from the rest of the world in a steady thrum of white noise, Thor slipped into his brother’s room. Loki was scribbling away in the sketchbook Steve had given him, but swiftly stashed it under his pillow as Thor plopped himself down on the foot of Loki's bed. The action echoed with familiarity; of stormy nights when a young Thor couldn’t sleep, and would sneak into his brother’s chambers just to watch him draw. It was always under the pretence of checking on his little brother, but if Loki had seen through the lie, he never said a word. 

An odd thought struck him. Loki had always been able to tell the instant someone was lying. It’s what had originally given him his title – the God of Lies. But then, the brother he’d known had been lied to his entire life, and the weight of those lies eventually crushed him. Somewhere along the way he had wrapped himself in a cocoon of the lies told to him, until that’s all he was, but it should never have been that way. Thor was the liar, and Loki was truth. 

Thor took a deep, steadying breath and met Loki’s questioning gaze with resolve. “Loki, brother. There’s something I have to tell you...” 


	4. Deck The Halls

Natasha had been right; for the rest of the week, the sky was blacked out by dark, ominous clouds and a viciously frigid wind that never seemed to abate. Steve had wondered on more than one occasion if the fierceness of the weather outside had anything to do with the equally bleak and stormy atmosphere within the Avengers facility. Thor had come to breakfast one morning looking like someone had killed his dog. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and his skin held an unhealthy, grey-ish tinge. Loki was not with him. When Steve had asked after the younger Asgardian prince, Thor could only shake his head repeatedly, muttering something about giants and secrets like he was in some kind of trance. Both he and Bruce had tried to question the Thunderer, to find out if there was something wrong with the boy, but the man had refused to answer. Natasha had remained suspiciously tight-lipped throughout the entire ordeal, leading Steve to assume she knew more than she was letting on, but whatever she knew, she kept to herself. 

It had been days now since anyone had seen Loki, and Steve was becoming increasingly worried. The youngest brother had locked himself away in his room, and had somehow spelled the door shut so that neither Tony with his computer hacking, nor Thor with his axe, could break down the door. He had refused to speak to anyone, or even open the door for food, no matter how much Steve or Bruce or Thor begged and pleaded and tried to push sandwiches under the crack in the doorframe. Thor was becoming increasingly frustrated and volatile, bouncing between pleading and threatening, until a horrendous storm crashed down on their roof, lightning repeatedly striking the ground outside the building and the wind tearing at the windows, and Bruce had to physically haul the thunder god away to calm him. 

Steve was going for a different tactic this morning. 

He sat out in the hall with his back to the wall, facing Loki’s still-closed door, his knees bent and his sketchpad laid out across his thighs. His pen tapped absently against the blank page as he thought, waiting for the inspiration to come. It did; the image leaking into his mind like a drop of paint in water, and he hastily put pen to paper, scratching away. 

When he was done, Steve dropped the pen and held the pad aloft, studying it abjectly. It wasn't his best work; it was rushed, and the lines weren’t clean, but he thought it got the message across. An inky boy knelt on the ground; scrawny, with thin limbs and a too-big head, his knees scraped and bleeding. The blonde boy wiped away tears with one sleeve, while the other hand desperately tried to reach for his beaten-up flat cap being stomped on by a gang of much bigger boys. 

Carefully, Steve tore the page from his sketchbook, rolled forward onto his knees, and slid the paper underneath the door. He sat back and waited, straining to hear a sound; a footstep, a rustle of paper, anything. All was silent. Steve chewed absently on the end of his pen as the minutes ticked by. Maybe that had been the wrong image. Maybe he should have tried for something... happier. Steve’s pen hovered over the white page for a moment, before committing to the dark lines. The scene began to take shape. A sick boy sat in the rocking chair on the porch, a knitted blanket tucked around him. But despite his frail appearance, the boy was grinning; the taller, dark-haired boy that hung over the railing making him laugh. Satisfied, Steve shoved the picture under the door and waited. 

This time, he didn’t have to wait long. A carefully folded piece of paper fluttered from under the door and Steve snatched it up, sitting back against the wall to unfold it. The lines were clean and perfect, the shading beautifully done; so much so that the picture almost seemed three dimensional. In the foreground, a young boy, who was very obviously Thor, ran across a grassy plain, holding a hexagonal-shaped wooden ball aloft with both hands, a huge grin taking up a third of his face. A slew of children chased after him, beaming; Steve could practically hear their laughter. He studied the children’s faces carefully. Loki was not one of them. 

In the background stood a cluster of large, ancient-looking trees, and behind them rose the tall, spiralling towers of a great city – Asgard, he supposed. Steve brought the picture closer to his face, his nose almost grazing the paper as he carefully studied the details. There. He’d missed it at first, but there, under one of the large, twisted trees, was a dark blob in the vague shape of a boy. Steve brushed a thumb over the blob, heartache settling in his stomach like cold oatmeal. He knew what it was to be the outcast; to be the bullied, the loner, the loser. He knew what it was to feel weak and worthless, and as soon as he’d gotten that serum, he’d vowed to never feel that way again. But even then, even before, he’d always had Bucky, and a family that loved him. He’d never truly been friendless, never truly been alone. 

Carefully, Steve folded the paper back over and set it aside. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do next, how to reply. He wished, in that moment, that he was better at these things; that he was more like Romanov, or even Bruce. They always seemed to know the right thing to say or do. He’d never had that particular gift. 

He didn’t have to do anything, though, as another piece of paper slipped under the door. Steve opened it apprehensively, and his stomach roiled. The drawing was point-of-view, and a dozen grubby hands almost jumped off the page, grabbing for him. Behind the grasping hands, faces leered, grimy and hairy, with wicked sneers of foul and discoloured teeth. One of the hands held a filthy-looking needle looped with thick, rough twine, and Steve realised what he was looking at. 

Steve stared at that drawing for much too long, both mesmerised and horrified. Loki was certainly talented; the images seemed almost alive, the gnarled fingers so realistic that Steve almost expected them to wrap around his neck at any moment. Hastily, he folded the image in half and set it aside, unwilling to look at it anymore. Uncertainly, he picked up his sketchbook and pen again, took a deep breath, and began to draw. His worst fear came to life on the page; it was a nightmare he’d had over and over again ever since he’d been defrosted. He drew himself; subzero water up to his neck, his face pressed up against the cockpit roof as he took his last breath of air; the compass with Peggy’s photo gripped tightly in his hand. He paused before he sent it, unsure if he should have drawn something so dark. But Loki seemed to be in a dark mood, and so Steve popped his nightmare under the door and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Over an hour passed, and Steve had begun to worry that he’d scared Loki off. He paused his absent doodling in his sketchbook, wondering if maybe he should be telling Thor that he possibly pissed his brother off even more, when another piece of paper was shoved roughly under the door. This piece was crumpled, like it had been scrunched into a ball and then smoothed out again, and Steve picked it up with trepidation. 

In this one, Loki had used colour. Just two colours, actually. Red and blue. 

A fully-grown Thor stood in a fighter’s stance, his face full of rage and his mouth wide open in what Steve imagined to be a battle cry. His cape whipped out behind him, coloured a bright red, and he pointed a long, carved spear at another creature’s throat. This strange creature was humanoid in appearance, with odd, swirling patterns carved across its limbs, chest and face. It wore only a loincloth, exposing the deep blue colour of its skin. Its hair was long and jet black, its oddly familiar features sharp and pointed, and its eyes a dark vermilion. Despite the strange colourings and marking, Steve could tell the creature was clearly terrified. 

Shock jolted through Steve like a thousand volts as he realised he was looking at _Loki_. Thor had never been particularly forthcoming with the details. After the battle of New York, he’d mentioned Loki was adopted, that his father had found him on a planet with which they were at war, and that Loki had found out in the worst possible way. Steve supposed it was naïve of him to think that the inhabitants of every planet looked human, but Thor had never even mentioned anything like this. No _wonder_ Loki had gone off the deep end. No _wonder_ he had made a deal with the devil in order to feel powerful again; in order to feel wanted. No _wonder_ he had wanted to crush, tear, destroy, burn... 

Steve threw the image to the side and yanked the sketchbook towards him, drawing in fast, hasty strokes. It wasn’t as good as Loki’s; he only had a pen and nothing to colour with, and his lines were messy and rushed, but he thought he’d captured his meaning well enough. Steve drew up onto his knees and waddled towards the door, but before he could reach it, another piece of paper shot out from beneath the door, fluttering around him like it was caught in a dust devil. Steve didn’t have time to grab it before it was joined by another folded paper, and another, and another. 

The pictures came faster, slips of paper shooting out from under the door like a Vegas card dealer. Loki could not possibly be drawing this fast, which either meant he was using magic, or these were things he had already drawn; maybe both. They whirled about him like a scene from Harry Potter (yes, Tony had made him watch that), and Steve snatched papers out of the air, burning the images into his brain. 

A picture of young Loki, kneeling in the rain, his head bowed and hair dripping. Before him sat Mjolnir, Thor’s hammer, with small, neat writing carved into the side: ONLY THE WORTHY. 

On another page, a young Thor ran, beaming, his sword raised above his head. Loki trailed behind at the edge of the page, dragging a sword that was much too large and heavy for him, but still trying desperately and futilely to catch up. 

On another, a dark, menacing shadow with teeth and claws chased a small, terrified boy through a dead forest. 

On another, Thor and a bunch of other kids pointed and laughed as Loki tried to pick up the pieces of a thick, leather-bound book that had been torn in half, ripped out pages scattered across the ground. 

Another; a family took centre page, Thor beaming up at who Steve assumed to be his parents, glittering crowns on the king and queen’s heads, the whole family sparkling and bright. In the background, almost off the page, a dark shadow watched, heavily shaded. 

A blue-skinned Loki lay bleeding on the ground, stab wounds covering his body. Five figures towered over him. The way it was drawn, Steve could only see the back of their heads as they looked down at the blue boy, but he instantly recognised them. A woman with red-blonde hair; a short, dark-haired man with glasses; a green giant; a muscular, short-haired blonde; and another blonde with a red cape. 

Steve let the images fall from his hands and scatter across the floor with the others. He laid his hands upon the door, resting his forehead on the cool wood. “Loki...” His voice croaked over the tight lump in his throat, “Loki, stop. Stop. Please.” The whirling stopped suddenly, the pieces of paper fluttering to the floor like falling snow. “Let me in, Loki.” Steve whispered through the wood. He held his own drawing out, the paper trembling as his fingers shook, but he forced it under the door and waited. “Loki, please. Let me in.” The silence felt like an eternity, and Steve closed his eyes and prayed to God. 

There was a sharp click, and before Steve could react, the door swung open and he tumbled through. He caught himself with his arms before his face could meet unpleasantly with the hardwood, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim bedroom. The lights were off and the blinds drawn, and Loki sat in the centre of the darkness, his back to Steve as he hunched over something. 

Steve slowly slid over to him, not entirely sure if touching him was the right thing to do. He wished he knew the right thing to say, how to take the boy’s pain away, how to make it all better, but he didn’t; he couldn’t. America’s first Avenger had never felt so useless. 

“Loki...” He reached out gently to touch the boy’s sleeve, but Loki did not look up. “Loki, we would never... we would never hurt you. Never. We only want to protect you. You’re one of us, you’re-” 

“No, I'm not.” Came the sharp reply. Steve grit his teeth. He wasn’t Romanov or Stark, he wasn’t good with words, he didn’t know how to convince someone to listen. All he had was the truth. “You are, Loki. It doesn't matter where you were born or what colour your skin is. All that matters is what’s in here.” He reached over and touched two fingers to Loki’s chest. “In here, you are _good._ I _know_ you are. That means you're not a monster, Loki, you can’t be.” Steve let his hand drop to his side as the boy turned his head ever so slightly towards him. “You’re one of us, Loki, for as long as you want to be. You’ll always have a place here, I promise you.” Finally, Loki peered up at him, wet eyes shining like cut jade in the darkness. He stared at Steve for a long moment, trying to discern the lie in his words. Steve held his breath, not daring to break eye contact. A fat droplet rolled down the boy’s cheek and Steve’s resolve crumpled. He reached out with one arm and pulled the boy to his chest, letting the wetness on his face soak into his shirt. Loki released Steve’s drawing and let it flutter to the floor as he fisted his tiny hands in the soldier’s shirt and cried. Steve wrapped his other arm around the boy’s shoulders and rocked gently, trying to swallow the frog in his throat as he stared down at the drawing Loki had dropped. 

The five Avengers, in inky glory, lined in a row – Steve, Natasha, Thor, Tony and Bruce. All smiling and laughing joyously up at the blue-skinned boy hoisted up on Thor’s shoulders; his grin the brightest one of all. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

_“Move your feet, boy! Are you trying to get hit?” Loki barely ducked the swing of the deadly broadsword in time, clumsily parrying with his claymore; the long, bulky sword too heavy for his small arms. He much preferred his smaller, thinner rapier, or even his_ _haladie_ _blades, even if they did lessen his reach. But_ _Brün_ _was making him train with one of the most cumbersome swords in the armoury, claiming that his tiny blades were not the weapon of a true warrior._

_Brün_ _struck again, and though Loki blocked, the strength of the blow made his arms buckle,_ _Brün’s_ _broadsword sliding down and over his hilt and slicing into his forearm. Loki stumbled back, sucking in a pained gasp between clenched teeth._

_“Your grip is weak.”_ _Brün_ _admonished, pressing his advantage with a series of attacks, the deep gash on Loki’s arm smarting every time he blocked and parried. “You’re too slow, boy. You’ll never beat_ _Tyr_ _– you won’t even last one round!” With a frustrated growl, Loki swung his sword with all his might, locking with_ _Brün’s_ _blade in a stalemate. “Better!”_ _Brün_ _grinned through the straw-coloured beard, “But you’ve left your flank wide open.”_ _Brün_ _swung his sword in a swift, circular motion, flicking Loki’s blade right out of his hands. The grown man’s foot shot out, cracking Loki across the thigh and sweeping his feet out from under him._

_Flat on his back, Loki wheezed; the breath knocked from his lungs and his diaphragm spasming painfully. He tried desperately to suck down air, staring up at the cloudless blue sky above, and soon found the point of a sword aimed at his nose. “Up.”_ _Brün_ _demanded, shifting the tip of his blade until it pointed at his sternum, but Loki couldn’t move. Sweat poured down his face, making his clothes stick to his skin beneath the heavy training armour, and every muscle in his body ached._

_“I need... a break.” He managed to gasp out between laboured breaths._ _Brün_ _raised his sword and cracked the boy over the head with the flat side of it. “Ah!” Loki cried out, throwing his hands over his head in belated defence._

_“There are no breaks in battle.”_ _Brün_ _menaced, his scraggly beard twitching as he bared his teeth. “Get. Up.”_

_Loki scrambled back and struggled to his feet; his muscles screaming at him for reprieve. “_ _Brün_ _, we’ve been training for seven hours...”_

_“And you’ll keep going for seven more!”_ _Brün_ _declared, waving his sword in Loki’s face. “Your brother mastered the longsword and the double-handed sword months ago. They will be moving on to more advanced weapons and you will be left behind, is that what you want?”_

_Silently, Loki shook his head, a cold sort of dread filling his insides at the thought. No, he couldn’t fail at this too. He had to show them._

_“You’re weak, boy.”_ _Brün_ _said; but there was no malice in his tone, just the cold assurance of someone who had been training warriors for the last three thousand years. The familiar mix of rage and shame prickled beneath Loki’s skin, burning away the cold fear. “You’re not as strong as your brother. You're not as strong as the others, so you’ll have to work twice as hard as everyone else, understand?”_

_Loki set his jaw, levelling a hardened gaze at his trainer. “I understand.” With light footwork, he made his way over to the spot his sword had fallen, never once taking his eyes off the blade pointed at his chest. Catching the hilt with his foot, he flicked his sword up into his hand._

_“Win or die, boy. On the battlefield, those are your only options. Win or die.”_ _Brün_ _said, not unkindly, as he advanced on the young prince._

_Loki took a deep, steadying breath, banishing the burn of the wound on his arm and the cry of his muscles as he readied himself for another onslaught. “Win or die.” Loki repeated; then he attacked._

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

“Hey, let me see that.” 

“They’re all tangled.” 

“Well I _told_ you not to just chuck them back in the box.” 

“No, Thor, you can’t just dump them all in one spot, you gotta spread them apart a bit.” 

“I hope you boys are planning on vacuuming when you’re done.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Nat- Oh! Loki! You’re up! Quick, come help your brother with this, he sucks at decorating.” 

Loki rubbed at his eyes, then rubbed them again, unsure if he was fully awake when he saw a giant tree standing in the middle of the room, currently having glittery string and shiny baubles thrown upon it. When he’d walked through here yesterday, for the first time in a week, the tree had not been here. 

Thor, looking chastised by Tony’s comment, held out a few of the round, coloured balls to him expectantly. Loki took one and stared at it, twisting it in his fingers. When it did nothing, he looked up. “What... is it?” 

Before anyone could answer, there was a screech and the sound of furiously pattering feet. “Loki!” A dark blob launched itself at him, almost knocking him off his feet. Lady Morgan had her arms wrapped around his middle, sending a sharp spike of pain through his left side. He winced, sucking in a breath through his teeth. 

“Brother?” Thor halted in his decorative attempts, concern drawing his features. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Nothing.” He said quickly, gently prying the girl from him and offering her a polite bow and a smile instead. His brother _(Not-brother? Brother?)_ remained unconvinced. “Are you injured?” He knelt, trying to make a grab for Loki to inspect him, but Loki batted his hands away. 

“Thor, please. I’m fine.” 

Thor’s hands dropped suddenly, and he raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really?” One hand shot out quick as a flash and poked him in the ribs. 

“Ah!” Loki cried out, doubling over with his arms wrapped protectively around his middle. He looked up to shoot Thor a poisonous glance. 

“Let me see.” Thor reached for him again, more gently this time, ignoring Loki’s attempts to swat him away. 

“Thor, it’s _nothing_. I’m _fine_.” But Thor managed to grab hold of his shirt and lift it. There was a gasp, he wasn’t sure from who, and Loki suddenly went stock still, anger and humiliation burning through him like acid, his fists clenched at his side, white-knuckled and shaking. A swath of deep purple marred his left side, the centre so dark it was almost black. A matching one arced across his chest and over his right shoulder, and, Loki knew, a third was hidden beneath his pants, caning his thigh. Loki felt the stares burning holes in his skin, but said nothing, his gaze remaining locked onto one of the many baubles on the tree. 

“Loki, who... who did this to you?” Thor asked, his voice dangerously quiet. Loki’s head snapped to his brother, studying his expression a moment. He looked genuinely angry, and it was this that softened the venom from Loki's next words. 

“Tyr.” He whispered, casting his eyes down. Thor’s eyes widened briefly, and he let out a soft grunt of understanding. 

“Tear? What tear? Whose tear?” Stark frowned as he held his daughter’s shoulders, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two brothers. Thor released Loki's shirt, letting it fall back to his waist. He stood, exhaling heavily through his nose. “It’s... another incident from our past. When Asgardian boys reach their three hundredth birthday, they may choose to complete a _Reyna_ – a feat of valour or bravery to prove a warrior is ready for battle. If they are victorious in their trial, they may begin training with the King’s Army. Most are allowed to choose their _Reyna_ , but...” 

“But as Princes of Asgard,” Loki continued when his brother faltered, “we must face unknowable threats and prove our mettle thrice over to show we are worthy of defending the realm.” 

Thor nodded along, his brow deeply furrowed. “Loki’s first trial was a three-day battle with Tyr – the God of War.” 

A tight smile pulled across Loki’s face, making his cheek ache where he’d been struck, but it could not put a damper on his satisfaction. “I won.” He said quietly, a sense of pride filling his chest and squeezing his heart. “I won, Thor.” 

Thor gave him a stern look. “You almost _died_ , Loki.” 

Loki withered under that look, his pride festering and turning sour. Of course, that was easy for Thor to say, _he_ only had to fight their cousin Baldr, the God of Light. No one had expected Loki to win against the much larger and much more experienced war god. No one had believed he would succeed. “But I _won_.” Loki said again with conviction, raising his gaze to glare defiantly at his brother. Thor looked like he was about to say something more – likely about how using magic was not truly winning, Loki was sure – but he held his tongue. 

“Yes, you did.” He said instead, the ire slowly leaking from his face to be replaced by a gentle smile. He reached out a placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “And we were all very proud of you, Loki.” 

A soft noise of surprise caught in Loki’s throat as his eyes widened fractionally. He’d never expected Thor to say _that_ to him. He’d never expected _anyone_ to say that to him. His mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure what to say. “Thanks.” He eventually settled on, dropping his gaze back to the floor, unsure exactly what to do with this kind of attention. He shuffled his feet, not game enough to brave a look at what the expressions of Thor’s friends might be. 

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Loki glanced up through his lashes to see Stark looking rather uncomfortable. He wasn’t the only one. “So... lights?” Stark said, holding up a tangled mess of dark green wire and tiny bulbs. 

Thor’s friends roped him into magically untangling the string of multicoloured lights. With a flick of his hands, he sent them swirling around the tree, wrapping it in perfectly measured intervals. His magic seemed to impress the Midgardians; there was a lot of ooh-ing and ahh-ing, and Lady Morgan clapped her hands delightedly, giggling. 

“Again! Again!” She squealed, laughing as she stuck close to Loki’s side. A broad grin pulled across Loki’s face and he happily obliged her, making the shiny, coloured baubles fly out of Thor’s hands and dance around the tree before finding their places among its branches. Steve chuckled, his hands on his hips as he stared up at the tree. “Well, Christmas is certainly going to be a lot easier with magic.” 

Bruce knelt to plug the lights in and switched them on; the flashing lights dancing with all the different colours of the Bifrost. “I’m glad we’re doing it this year. I think... I kinda missed it, you know?” 

Steve nodded, his grin dimming to a melancholy smile. “I know.” 

“Well I certainly didn’t miss the mess.” Lady Natasha frowned down at the assortment of pine needles and glitter and tinsel strands that littered the floor beneath the tree. Loki made a smooth sweeping motion with his arms, and the mess promptly rolled itself into a tidy ball at Lady Natasha’s feet. Loki glanced up at her, a mischievous smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. She stared at him for a long moment, looking slightly surprised; then her lip curled in a smirk to match his own. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

That evening, Thor found himself pacing in the hall outside his brother’s room, trying to keep his footsteps as light as possible lest he wake the perpetually-light sleeper. He kept his ears stained for any sign of him waking; a hitched breath or a whimper, anything to let him know his brother was remembering more of the _Reyna_. Thor cursed himself once more. He had not heard him last night when Loki had clearly been forced to relive his first trial by combat. He had not been there to save him from the memories or soothe his wounds. Thor refused to make that mistake a second time. 

“Thor, there you are.” Natasha’s voice startled him from his dark musings and he halted. “Natasha.” He ducked his head in a quick greeting. “I did not hear you coming.”

The Widow’s lips twisted into a sly smile. “Most don’t.” She quipped, a hint of humour colouring her voice. “I came to ask you if you and your brother wanted to come Christmas shopping with us tomorrow, but you weren’t in your room.” Her gaze wandered to Loki’s closed door, and then back to him. “What are you doing out here?” 

Thor sighed heavily, clasping his hands behind his back and looking anywhere but at the tiny redhead. “I... didn’t hear him.” He turned away from the door, shaking his head slowly. “Last night,” he elaborated, “I didn’t hear him when he must have been caught in the struggle with Tyr. He... he must have been in pain and I didn’t...” 

Natasha moved to lean against the opposite wall as Thor trailed off, her arms and ankles crossed as she studied the Asgardian thoughtfully. “If you like, I can ask Tony to set up some sort of alert system? Let you know when something sets him off?” 

Thor raised his gaze to the young woman, offering her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Natasha. It would put my mind at ease.” The woman nodded once, her gaze joining Thor’s as they both kept an eye on the closed door. They stood for a moment in heavy silence, lost in their own contemplations. 

“It will get worse.” Thor eventually said, his voice barely above a whisper, and he was surprised Natasha had even heard him. 

“What do you mean?” She asked without looking his way. 

He was silent for so long that Natasha eventually did look up at him; her cool stare boring into the side of his head, compelling him to speak. “My brother and I... we each had three trials, but every _Reyna_ is different, so though I had completed mine a year earlier, I could offer him no advice, and I was forbidden to aid him in any way. His trials were... different to mine, and the last one... it nearly killed him.” He glanced at the assassin out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction, but she wore the same carefully blank expression as always. “I didn’t find out until many, many years later that it had all been intentional.” He turned to face her, holding her gaze with his own. “Someone had been trying to kill him.” Her only reaction was the raising of one slim eyebrow, but she did not look away, and so Thor continued. “The warrior picked for Loki to fight should have been chosen at random, but it was rigged. The realm he was sent to for his Survival challenge was Muspelheim; a treacherous enough place for any Aesir, but for a Frost Giant?” Thor shook his head, unable to put into words how awful Loki had looked upon his successful return from the Fire realm, his skin all burnt and blistered. “And his final trial; his Endurance challenge. He was only supposed to be chained at the mouth of the Cave of Abyss, exposed to the naked cosmos for three days without going mad. That was the challenge. But... someone had slipped a venomous snake into the cave. It bit him.” Thor felt his throat closing up as the memory washed over him; the fear, and the dread, and the abhorrent _waiting_. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes for a moment before he could go on. 

“It bit him, and he was stuck there for three days. By the time he was released, he was delirious with fever and pain. We all thought he had failed the challenge and gone mad. It wasn’t until we got him back to the healer, Eir, that she realised he had been poisoned. I... In a millennia and a half, I have never seen an Aesir be _so_ sick, and still survive.” He remembered sitting at Loki’s bedside day and night, until Mother had forcibly dragged him away and locked him in his own chambers until he had rested. The sight of Loki’s deathly-pale skin, sunken eyes, and creeping, black veins had haunted him for weeks. 

Thor suddenly realised that he had fallen silent for a long time, and that Natasha was still patiently waiting. “When Loki fell from the Bifrost eleven years ago, Father was forced to confess the truth of Loki’s heritage to me. He also inadvertently told me about his _Reyna_ , how they knew someone was tampering with his challenges, and how they caught the culprit.” 

“Who was it?” Natasha asked quietly, leaning forwards ever so slightly. It was the first sign of interest she had shown in the entire time Thor had been speaking. 

Thor’s lips pressed together in a thin, grim line, as if they did not want to speak the words. He forced them apart. “It was his own mother. His birth mother, the Frost Giant Farbauti. When Father caught her, he had her beheaded in secret, so that no one would ever find out. Not even Loki.” 

Natasha frowned, her lips pulling to one side as she thought. “Why?” 

Confused, Thor shot her an odd look. “Why did my Father have her beheaded?” 

“No, why did she do it? His mother?” 

Thor’s mouth opened and closed a few times, before he realised he did not have an answer. “I... don’t know.” He admitted, “I never thought to ask. I don’t believe our father ever thought to ask either. I don't think... I don't think anyone thought to assign logic and reason to a monstrous creature's actions.” 

Natasha only hummed in reply, her eyes drifting from Thor back to the closed door. They fell once again into contemplative silence, Thor too caught up in his own thoughts to realise that Natasha looked just as concerned as he did. After some minutes had passed, or maybe it had been an hour, Natasha eventually pushed off the wall. “I’ll bring you a chair.” She said, giving him a comforting pat on the arm as she passed. Thor nodded absently, and by the time he had shook himself out of the fog of memory enough to belatedly shout a “thank you” after her, she was already gone. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

“Alright, c’mon Morgan, you have enough toys, don’t you think?” 

“No daddy! I have the Mermals and the Forest Friends, but I don’t have _any_ of the Pixies yet!” 

“But if I buy you this one now, what if Santa brings you the same one?” 

“But daaaaad.” Morgan whined, her bottom lip doing the dreaded wobble. 

Tony sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure _how_ he got stuck with babysitting duty. Apparently just because he’s managed to keep _one_ kid alive, that means he’s responsible enough to handle _two_. But Thor had insisted they split up so that he could get Loki’s Christmas present without him seeing. Not that Loki even really understood what Christmas _was_ , they’d had to explain it to him this morning, and wasn’t _that_ surreal. 

“The large man out there is the one that brings presents to every child?” Loki peered past the display train set in the window to where Santa’s Village was set up in the middle of the shopping centre, a line of impatient, screaming children and their exhausted parents snaking dangerously close to the food court. 

“Err,” Tony shot a quick glance at Bruce, who shrugged uselessly, “yep, that’s Santa. The kids are lining up so they can tell him what they want for Christmas.” 

Loki frowned at him for a long moment, and Tony worried that he may have seen through the lie; Thor had warned them he could do that. “And he makes and delivers all these toys with magic?” The young sorcerer still sounded rather suspicious, but he wasn’t outright calling Tony a liar, so the genius released the silent breath he’d been holding. 

“Yeah!” Morgan piped up, “He has a magic sleigh, and magic reindeer, and magic elves to help him make all the toys!” 

Loki’s attention snapped to Tony’s daughter, his owlish eyes wide with alarm. “There are elves here?” He demanded in a rushed whisper. 

“Uh-huh,” Morgan nodded enthusiastically, “come see!” Before Tony could protest, she grabbed Loki’s hand and half dragged him out of the toy store and over to the edge of the fake village. 

“Hey, Morgan! Don’t go running off!” Tony scolded to no avail, jogging after the pair and hoping Bruce would follow. 

Morgan pointed up at a pimple-faced kid dressed in red and green, with knee-high striped socks and oversized, plastic, pointed ears. “See!” Morgan declared proudly. 

Loki looked over the sad elf with distain and scoffed. “That’s _not_ an Elf.” His mouth widened into a grin that Tony didn’t particularly like the look of. “ _This_ is an Elf.” Loki raised both hands and flicked his fingers outward. 

“Oh crap.” Bruce muttered as he arrived just in time to see a semi-translucent figure almost as tall as Bruce himself magically appear out of thin air. The man (at least, Tony assumed it was male, if elves even had genders) was slim but lethal-looking, with long, partially-braided hair that fell to his waist, and so blonde it was basically silver. There was a chorus of gasps and startled cries from the waiting crowd, and the Elf’s fine-boned features mimicked the pleased look on Loki’s face. Loki’s fingers danced like he was pulling puppet strings, and the Elf threw out his arms with a flourish and gave a sweeping bow, the long, white and gold-embroidered coat fluttering out behind him. The crowd clapped and cheered, and Morgan squealed with delight. “Again! Again!” She squeaked, but Tony took gentle hold of Loki’s arm before any further damage could be done. 

“Uh, Loki, buddy, remember what we said about doing magic in public?” 

Loki glanced up at the retired superhero, his proud expression dropping faster than a rock on Jupiter, and Tony suddenly wondered if this puppy-dog look was why he’d gotten away with so much. “I’m sorry. I forgot: no magic in front of mortals.” The boy hung his head, and the Elf-man fizzled out of existence, much to the disappointment of the crowd. Tony released his grip on Loki’s arm and the boy flinched, but kept his eyes downcast. Tony and Bruce shared an uneasy look, but said nothing. 

Instead, Tony gave the young sorcerer a gentle pat on the shoulder. “C’mon, if we leave now, we’ll have time to stop for ice cream before we have to meet up with Thor and Auntie Nat.” 

Morgan’s whole face lit up, her pout disappearing as she instantly forgot about the fantasy Elf. “Yaaaayyy! Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!” Tony grinned, holding out his hand for his daughter to grasp. “Wow, the new Oscorp Projectors have really stepped it up from last year, hey Tony?” Bruce remarked loudly as Tony steered the two youngsters away from the confused crowd and escaped towards the mall’s entrance. 

Frigid air blasted them in the face as they made their way around the busy skating rink and headed back toward the main street, instantly turning Tony’s nose rosy. It had snowed a few days before; a wet sleet that had turned to ice almost instantly, making the pavements slushy and the roads icy and treacherous. Despite the weather, the city was bravely trying to push on with its usual festive bravado. People milled about, crowding the display windows or blocking traffic as they carted a dozen shopping bags with them. It was busier than it had been in past years – that first year, Rockefeller Centre had been an eerie ghost town – but despite the remaining shops doing their best to light up their windows with flashing lights and fanciful displays, every third or fourth shop was still dark and boarded up. 

“Isn’t it a bit cold for ice cream?” Bruce asked, one brow raised in mild amusement. Tony eyed the green giant’s thin jacket sulkily; the only addition the scientist had made to his outfit before walking out the door. Apparently a crazy-high metabolism plus near immortality meant that neither Jolly Green nor the two Princes of Persia could feel cold. 

“Like that bothers you.” Tony said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Can I get bubblegum?” Morgan was practically bouncing at his side. She _definitely_ didn’t care how cold it was. 

“Sure, you can get whatever flavour you like – two scoops, if you want.” 

“Yay!” Delighted, Morgan twirled about clumsily. She grasped Bruce’s pinkie with her other hand, using the two adults to swing over the lines on the pavement. Bruce chuckled at her antics, and glanced back over his shoulder to where Loki was wandering a few paces behind, his eyes round as he took in all the festive shop displays. “What flavour do you like, Loki?” 

Loki jolted at the question, clearly not expecting anyone to have included him in the conversation. A small frown marred his face, changing to uncertainty as he looked up at Bruce. “Erm, what is... ice cream?” 

Brue met Tony’s equally surprised gaze. “Well, ah, it’s cream and milk and sugar mixed together and frozen, and then they add flavours to it, like mint or chocolate or strawberry.” 

“I see.” Loki nodded, though he still looked a little wary about the whole thing. He went back to staring at the shop windows as they walked, and Tony noticed that the burns from yesterday had mostly healed, though the skin on the backs of his hands and beneath the loosely wrapped scarf still looked red and raw. Tony drew his gaze back to his own dark-haired child. He couldn’t imagine sending his own kid off to Bear-Grylls-it through some Hell-inspired fire dimension, let alone what Pepper would say. For a brief moment, Tony was glad the old Asgardian king was dead. 

“Daddy, look! Look, a kitty!” Morgan let go of Bruce’s finger to point ahead at a small, dark shape weaving through discarded cardboard boxes at the entrance of an alleyway. As they drew closer, Tony could see its fur was all matted and mangey, and one of its eyes was clouded. Morgan tugged on his hand, wanting to go closer, but he held her firm. “No, Maguna, don’t touch it, it’s a stray.” 

“What’s a stray?” Loki asked, stopping a few feet from the little kitten as they passed it. 

“Means it doesn't belong to anyone. It lives out here on the streets.” Tony halted, waiting for the little prince to catch up, but Loki didn’t move. He just stood there, watching the small creature as it fumbled clumsily over rotting cardboard. 

“Where are its parents?” Loki asked so softly that Tony almost didn’t hear him over the constant noise of the traffic. “Ah, I don’t know...” He looked up at Bruce for help, raising his eyebrows. “It could have been a lot of things,” Bruce said, taking a knee so that he was closer to the young boy’s height. “He could have gotten lost, or his mom might have died, or...” 

“Or abandoned him.” Loki said quietly, yet to tear his eyes away from the flailing kitten. Bruce glanced up at Tony, who only shrugged at his silent query. In that moment, Morgan gave an extra hard tug, and slipped right out of both her mitten and her father’s grip. “We can be its parents!” She shouted gleefully, making a mad dash toward both Loki and the kitten. 

“Morgan! Don’t!” Tony’s hand shot out, grasping for the back of Morgan’s coat but missing. The cat, startled by a large human suddenly lurching towards it, bolted straight for the road. 

“No!” 

“Morgan!” Tony snatched up his daughter as she tried to stop the kitten, but neither he nor Bruce were fast enough to catch Loki. 

There was a terrible screeching of tyres, followed by a cacophony of horns blaring, but Tony could hardly hear them over the noise of his own blood pumping in his ears. 

“Loki!” Bruce shouted, leaping over the hoods of the stopped cars. Tony felt like his heart had just fallen out of his ass. Oh god, what was he going to tell _Thor_?! 

Tony hung back, not wanting Morgan to see. The shock was starting to set in, and Tony bounced her on his hip as she gasped down huge, sobbing breaths, about 30 seconds away from a full-blown meltdown. He shuffled towards the curb, trying to simultaneously tuck Morgan’s head into his shoulder and crane his neck to see over the hood of the car. All he could see was Bruce’s green shoulders and dark hair, crouched down in the middle of the road. People were starting to get out of their cars, some gesturing angrily at the hold up and others curiously trying to peer closer. 

“Bruce?” Tony called cautiously, licking his dry lips. “Bruce, is he...?” He let the question hang, too terrified to finish it. 

“He’s alright.” Bruce answered quickly, and relief flooded through the billionaire like whiskey after an AA meeting. “It’s just...” Bruce started to continue, but then stopped. Frowning, Tony weaved through the cars, holding Morgan tightly as he peered over Bruce’s shoulder. 

Loki was on his hands and knees on the tarmac, leaning over the still figure of the kitten. Tony grimaced. The car had clipped the animal’s hind, crushing its back legs and hips, a smear of blood across the road. Tony was pretty sure the little animal was already gone. 

“Loki. Loki, go with Tony, okay?” Bruce had a hand on the boy’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. “Don’t look at it, just go with– No don’t touch it!” Bruce cried, reaching for Loki even as the boy laid his hands upon the kitten’s still-warm body. Bruce and Tony both froze as a pale, green light emanated from between the young sorcerer’s fingers, falling over the body like mist. Loki’s face was screwed up tight, his teeth grit in determination as a groan caught in his throat, his hands beginning to shake. 

“Loki, I don’t think...” But right before his eyes, the mangled legs began to straighten, the crushed torso filled out, and the kitten’s side rose and fell with each breath. 

“What the-” Tony gaped, sure his eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. Morgan wiggled in his grasp, and Tony set her down, keeping a hold of her hand as she watched Loki through teary eyes. The kitten sat up, blinking at the little prince with big, grey-blue eyes. It stood on shaky legs, tottering towards the boy’s still outstretched palms to rub itself against them, mewling happily. 

“Wow, that...” Bruce let out a shocked bark of laughter, a grin slowly starting to spread across his face. “That was amazing. I had no idea you could... Loki?” 

Loki had slumped forwards onto his hands, his arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up. They gave way; Bruce’s massive hand shooting out to catch the boy before his head could hit the pavement. 

“Loki? Shit. Tony...” 

“On it.” Tony whipped out the palm-sized glass tablet from his breast pocket and spoke into it. “FRIDAY, I need emergency transport, where’s the closest extraction point?” 

“Boss, I can have the ‘jet in Central Park in 15 minutes.” 

“Do it.” Tony ordered as Bruce gently scooped Loki’s limp form into his arms. “Contact Nat and Thor, have them meet us there.” 

“You got it, Boss.” Came the artificial reply. Tony slipped the tablet back into his pocket and did his best to disperse the crowd that was gathering. “Nothing to see here folks, go back to your spiced lattes and candy canes. Merry Christmas to all, etcetera, etcetera. Bruce, let's go.” The crowd parted easily for Bruce, leaving a gap for Tony to follow.   
“Dad, wait!” Morgan shrugged free of his hand and bent to gently collect the kitten that was still mewling after Loki, cradling it in the crook of her scarf. 

“Good job, Morgs. Come on.” He hiked both her and the kitten up onto his hip and started after Bruce, almost jogging to keep up. 

Tony was sure he was dying by the time they reached Central Park; the taste of copper sharp on his tongue as his lungs tried to burst from his chest, and he was about ready to strip down to his skivvies. _This is what I get for being retired_ , he thought ruefully. Thor and Nat and the quinjet were already waiting for them in the grassy fields. 

“What happened?” Thor demanded the instant they arrived. 

“I’m not sure,” Bruce yelled over the thrum of the quinjet powering up. “He did a lot of magic and I think it might have drained him. He collapsed.” Thor’s expression was grim, his lips pressed together in a thin, pale line, but he said nothing further. He helped Bruce settle the boy across the back seats of the ‘jet, Natasha walking past them to take the cockpit seat, despite the fact that the quinjet could fly itself just fine. Tony finally set Morgan down, trying to catch his breath as he strapped his daughter in. 

“He saved the kitty, daddy, did you see? Did you see it?” Morgan held the kitten out, waving it in Tony’s face, her big, brown eyes wide with awe. 

“Yeah, I saw honey.” 

Morgan set the kitten back down in her lap and leaned forward. “He’s a wizard.” She whispered conspiratorially. Tony chuckled as he strapped himself into the seat next to his daughter. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

The kitten wiggled off of her lap, wobbling on unsteady legs as the quinjet took off. It squeezed between the two hulking figures of Thor and Bruce who were crouched at the little prince’s side, then proceeded to jump up onto Loki’s lap, curl itself across his legs, and promptly went to sleep. 

Tony leant back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. Somehow, he didn’t think he was retired anymore. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫· 

_He was chained down, his arms and legs held fast in thick iron, his limbs being pulled backward as the chains wrapped around the boulder. The rock dug into his bare skin, scraping and cutting him every time he tried to move, to ease the pressure on his aching joints. The cosmos whirled past him; pinpricks of vivid colour that soared across his eyes like dust motes, scarring his retinas, followed by eternally dark, sucking holes in the universe, so deep and violent that he knew he would never see the light of day again. It made him nauseous, like riding a_ _Bifrost_ _he couldn’t get off._

_Gravity pulled at him from different directions, like it was trying to both rip out his stomach and pull off his legs. Now and then, a star would pass too close; its heat blistering his skin, boiling him alive. He would scream and scream and scream, but the sound never seemed to reach his ears. It was sucked into the Void, like everything else. The thunderous, screaming roar of the abyss deafened him, or was it absolute silence? He couldn’t tell. He thought he heard movement, but then, he wasn’t sure that he could actually hear anything at all. Was he going mad already? Was he mad? Was he?_

_No, that was definitely movement – a rustling from deep within the cave, growing closer; something sinister and slithering._

_The head of a giant snake appeared in his vision to his left, its jet-black scales reflecting the colourful streaks of galaxies. It curled before him, its body thicker than_ _Heimdall’s_ _arm._ _The snake rose up, its forked tongue spitting as it hissed. He wanted to scream, but fear had frozen him to the core; his heart thudding away in his chest like it was trying to drum out a lifetime within the next few seconds._

_The snake’s hood jittered open, revealing swirls of purple and red against the black. It reared back, and he screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself. It struck; once, twice, three times. Its foot-long fangs sunk into his leg, his_ _shoulder_ _, his stomach. Pain bleached his vision white, blocking out the sickening swirl of the Void. It raced through his veins like fire through a drought-stricken forest, scorching him alive. He thought he saw the snake slithering away, but the pain had made him blind. He thought he felt something warm and wet dribbling down his body, but the pain had made him numb. He thought he heard a shrill, piercing shriek, but he realised it was his own screaming. He waited, half mad and writhing against the rock, for the pain to overtake his mind and drop him into blissful unconsciousness._

_Unconsciousness never came._


	5. A Silent Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side Note: So I just finished writing chapter 7 and oof. You guys. I just hurt my own feels >.<  
> Anyway here's the next chapter. I'm starting to catch up to myself in regards to my writing, so forgive me if updates come a little slower, I'm trying to keep up!  
> Reviews definitely help though! I love hearing what you guys think, so keep em coming!

“Tony, clear that bed!” 

“Banner! What is happening?” 

“His blood pressure’s dropping. Heart rate is abnormal.” 

“He was fine just a minute ago! Unconscious, but fine!” 

“Nat, wheel that oxygen over here?” 

“On it.” 

“Guys, what’s happening?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” 

“Uh, his veins are black. Are his veins meant to be black?” 

“I... I know what this is.” All four heads whipped around to stare at Thor, and the Asgardian shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. “I’ve been expecting this – I just didn’t think it would happen so soon...” 

“Don’t worry about that now, I need to know what happened to him so I can treat him.” Bruce spurted in a rush, slipping an oxygen mask over Loki’s face. 

“You can’t.” Thor almost whispered. He raised his eyes to meet Natasha’s, and her mouth pressed into a thin, white line. Bruce looked back and forth between the two of them. “What do you mean, I can’t? If I don’t do something, he might—” 

“He won’t die.” Natasha said quickly, watching Thor as he crumpled heavily into a chair, his face in his hands. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything further, Natasha continued. “He was bitten by some kind of mythical snake. He survives, obviously, but it’s like everything else so far; his body is playing catch-up and we just have to wait it out.” She shrugged casually, but her white-knuckled grip on the bedside rail gave her away. 

Bruce looked down at the small boy, a horrible sinking feeling in his gut like cold lead. Loki was both sweating and shivering; his skin coated in a sickly sheen and so pale it was almost translucent. Thick, black veins ran up his arms and neck, creeping across his cheeks like spider webs. Though his eyes were closed, his brows were knit together, his teeth clenched behind purple-tinged lips. 

“I have to do _something_.” Bruce managed; the words slightly strangled as they caught in his throat. “I can’t just...” He trailed off as Loki groaned, his lips moving like they were trying to form words. Bruce leaned in closer. “Loki?” He called gently, hoping the boy was starting to come around. Loki’s eyelids fluttered, and his mouth opened, but instead of words, all he uttered was a terrified, ear-splitting scream. 

He began to thrash, hands clawing at his own stomach as his eyes rolled up into his head. “Hold him down!” Bruce ordered, practically lunging for the medicine fridge, his thick fingers all too clumsy as he searched for the right vial. “Nat, syringe!” 

Natasha complied with urgent efficiency, prepping a needle and swab while Tony and Steve each held a limb. Thor was on his feet again, looking like he was about to tear his hair out. “Hold him steady.” Bruce directed while Tony struggled with a flailing arm. He swabbed the crook of Loki’s elbow and slipped the needle in with practiced ease, steadily pushing in the plunger. After a few moments, Loki’s struggling ceased. 

The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and Tony and Steve stepped back. “What the _hell_ was that?” Tony said at the same time Steve said, “What do you mean a snake?” 

Thor clutched at the metal railing of the cot like it was the only thing holding him up. “It was his _Reyna_ ; his final challenge.” 

“And what? He had to fight a snake?” Tony asked, incredulous. 

“Someone tried to assassinate him.” Natasha said quietly, her eyes trained on the figure beneath the white sheets. 

There was stunned silence for half a second, until Tony broke it. “ _Fuck_.” 

“Language.” Steve muttered out of habit. Tony shot him a glare. 

“How long until he recovered?” Bruce directed his question at Thor, though it was hard to tell if the thunder god was paying them any attention at all; his head bowed low, hanging between his hunched shoulders. “He regained consciousness after a week.” He answered without raising his head. “Though, these events seem to be happening at an accelerated rate.” He straightened up a little then, gazing thoughtfully down at the sleeping boy before turning his gaze to the doctor. “I am hoping that means he will recover sooner than the first time.” 

Bruce only stared down at the boy, unable to tear his gaze away from the creepy, ashen veins that poured across his white skin like ink on parchment. He nodded absently. “Let’s hope so. I can keep him sedated, but only for a few days. After that...” Bruce trailed off, not really sure what he had been intending to say, but the air seemed to be stiff with his unfinished statement, so he tried for something a little more hopeful. “Well, let’s just hope you’re right.” He offered Thor a small smile, but by the look on the demigod’s face, he was less than reassured. And from the look on everyone else’s face, he wasn't sure that anyone truly believed him. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

Thor was wrong. The days dragged into weeks, the first proper snowfall came and went, and still Loki had yet to wake up. Physically, he appeared fine. His vitals had returned to normal after a few days, and his skin lost its sickly look within the week. Brain function – though admittedly quite high – was perfectly healthy, so for the life of him, Bruce couldn’t figure out _why_ the youngest prince was still in a coma. 

On Christmas Eve, Bruce stood in front of the Christmas tree. He’d been staring at it for so long that his eyes were starting to water, the little blinking lights becoming smudged blurs. They’d been so hopeful, putting it up this year. They’d been so naïve thinking that maybe, this year, the holidays wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it wouldn’t be so gloomy; filled with reminders of all they’d lost. Maybe, they had a chance to make a happy memory. 

Bruce stared up at the Christmas tree, and now, thought of it as a bad omen. 

For all his degrees and doctorates, for all his experience and knowledge, for all his _strength_ , he was utterly useless in this moment. He could do nothing for that boy upstairs; nothing besides watching, and waiting. 

Loki’s screams haunted him, joining with the screams of the others he couldn’t save until a choir of misery followed him around everywhere he went. It was like being back in Calcutta all over again. Too many people he couldn’t help; too many sick, too many dying, and he was just _one man._ They’d needed medicines, _vaccines_ , proper facilities, and for every one he saved, three more seemed to die. 

Bruce finally blinked, his eyes stinging, and turned away from the all-too-merry tree. He was surprised to find Natasha leaning against the doorway to the dining room, watching him. 

“For a green guy, you’re looking a little blue.” She smirked, stalking halfway into the living room then pausing to glance up at the blinking tree. 

Bruce could only offer her a sad smile. “I guess I just thought it would be different this year, you know?” 

She nodded, the smirk wiped from her face. “We all did.” She said quietly, staring up at the twinkling lights. They stood in semi-comfortable silence for a while, watching the lights dance to the tune of _We Wish You A Merry Christmas._ It had been strange at first, seeing her again after so long apart; after so long as the Hulk. He’d avoided her – avoided everyone altogether – throwing himself into his gamma research instead. But, with a lot of time and a lot of therapy, he’d begun to realise it wasn’t them he was hiding from, it was himself. He’d spent all this time thinking of Hulk as the _Other Guy_ , like a separate entity living in his brain, taking over his life. But it wasn’t that way at all. He’d thought of the Hulk as a punishment; a ramification of letting his anger get the better of him, so he’d done everything in his power to feel no anger – meditation, medication, Tai Chi, journaling, anger management classes. None of it had worked. It had taken them losing on such a colossal scale for him to realise what true punishment was. The Hulk was never some _other_ thing inside him, it _was_ him. It was all him; anger, rage, frustration, jealousy, pain – the full range of the human emotional spectrum that he had denied himself for years. He’d finally found a sense of peace within him, but the price he’d paid to learn such a lesson was to give up everything – even the tempting future Natasha had once offered. 

Somewhere down the hall, the clanging of Steve’s old-fashion clock echoed as it struck midnight, and a small hand on his arm broke Bruce from his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed Natasha sneaking up on him. She had a tendency to do that. “Merry Christmas, Bruce.” She murmured, her lips curving upwards in a rare smile. Bruce returned it. “Merry Christmas.” She patted him arm comfortingly, then left him standing there, staring up at the tree. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

Christmas Eve passed into Christmas Day, which passed into Christmas Night. Tony and his family joined them in the evening, putting a slightly happier spin on what was otherwise a rather joyless celebration. When all the presents had been opened and all of Pepper’s wonderful cooking eaten, they retired to the den to sit by the twinkling tree. Steve brought in an armful of wood he had chopped earlier, and happily set about lighting a fire in the hearth when Tony stood up, pressed a button on the mantle, and turned the gas on. The fireplace sprung to life instantly, and Tony grinned at the pout on the Captain's face. “There’s been a few developments since you discovered fire, old man.” Tony ribbed, succeeding only in deepening Steve’s scowl. 

Thor barked out a laugh, reaching to fill his mug with the last of the warm cider Pepper had made. He poured carefully, despite his unsteady hand and red face, then sank back into the couch, the mug resting on his protruding belly. Bruce and Pepper exchanged a concerned look. Natasha had practically forced him out of Loki’s room, threatening something involving string lights and reindeer antlers if he didn’t go downstairs and at least _eat_ something. Thor had then proceeded to drown his sorrows in alcohol until he drank Tony dry – but at least he was smiling – while Nat took over the boring job of babysitting a coma patient. 

Morgan lay on the rug by the fireplace, surrounded by a mountain of toys. She scribbled away happily with her new watercolour pencils, courtesy of Steve. Suddenly she jumped up, waving her drawing around as she ran over to Tony. “Daddy! Daddy! I’m done!” She shoved the piece of paper under Tony’s nose, and he frowned down at it. “Is this Santa?” 

“Uh huh.” Morgan nodded, beaming brightly. 

“And who’s this?” Tony turned the paper around and pointed to a green blob. The green blob was next to a giant red blob in the middle, and another yellow blob on the other side. The red blob also appeared to be vomiting a rainbow of glitter. 

“That’s Santa, that’s me, and that’s Loki!” She pointed to the red, yellow, and green blobs in turn. 

Tony turned the paper back towards him, pouring over it like it was a fine piece of art. “Ah, yes, I see the likeness. This is _exactly_ what he looks like. You captured his essence so well.” 

Morgan giggled, taking the artwork back from her father. “It’s a present for Loki. Can I give it to him?” 

Tony briefly exchanged a glance with Bruce before answering. “Why don’t you put it in the pile over there with the others?” He gestured towards the small handful of gifts that were all that was left under the Christmas tree. “Loki can open it when he gets better.” 

Morgan looked crestfallen for a moment, but it quickly changed once she flounced over to the tree, carefully arranging her drawing on the top of the pile. She charged back over to launch herself into Tony’s lap, giggling when her father grunted at the impact. “Is kitty looking after Loki?” She craned her neck back until she was looking up at Tony’s chin. 

“Oh yes, he’s been a very good guard kitten.” Tony said with a completely serious expression which made the other adults grin. In actual fact, it wasn’t far from the truth. The kitten Loki had saved had hardly left his side; whenever Bruce went in there to check on his patient, the cat always seemed to be curled up in Loki’s lap. 

“My friend Billy has a kitten, but it’s not really a kitten, it’s an old cat. And he only has one eye!” Morgan pulled down the skin under one of her eyes to demonstrate. “And Billy says he runs away sometimes, but he always comes back! And Billy says—” 

But whatever else Billy said about his cat was lost, as Natasha poked her head over the bannister at the top of the stairs and shouted. “Bruce! Bruce, something’s happening.” Bruce was on his feet in an instant, bounding up the stairs three at a time and following Natasha to Loki’s room. 

Bruce rushed into the room and stopped short, then felt something heavy crash into his side, not realising Thor, Tony and Steve had all followed him in. It might have been comical were his patient not currently _glowing_. 

Loki was tossing and turning, sheets tangled around his limbs, and for reasons which Bruce couldn’t begin to guess, his skin was giving off a soft, orange glow. His chest heaved as he tried to suck in enough oxygen to supply his racing heart, and Bruce glanced at the monitor at his bedside, quickly skimming over his vitals. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know.” Natasha answered in a rush, gently toeing away the kitten that was trying to climb back up onto Loki’s bed. “He was the same as always, then all of a sudden he just started thrashing around, then he started to… well, glow.” She gestured towards the obvious. 

Bruce grabbed for his wrist to double check what he was seeing on the monitor, and almost dropped it again in surprise. “He’s freezing! Steve, could you get more blankets?” 

“I’ll find some.” Steve said, dashing out of the room. 

“That may not be such an unusual thing, for Loki.” Thor spoke up; the panic seemed to have sobered him up instantly. “Loki can use his magic to regulate his temperature, but in his true form, he is so cold that his touch can cause severe and instant frostbite.” He frowned, moving towards to bed to press a palm to Loki’s forehead. “For him to be so cold now, his magic must be being used for something else.” 

“Great.” Tony mumbled in the background. 

“Well, I don’t know what to do about that, but we do need to get his heart rate down.” He glanced over his shoulder at Natasha, “Nat, in the medicine drawer there’s a vial labelled Tenormin—” 

“Got it.” She nodded once, already halfway out the door. 

“Oh, and Nat! Bring the crash cart too, just in case.” Natasha glanced down at the small boy, still shifting under Thor and Bruce’s grasp, then she disappeared down the hall. Steve came back with blankets then, wrapping the warm covers around Loki’s form. 

Tony peered closer at the strange effulgence that appeared like a shimmer around the boy’s entire body. “What’s with the Fairy Godmother aura? Does that have something to do with his magic too?” 

“I… don’t know.” Thor admitted with a wince. “It is possible, though I have never seen Loki do anything like this.” 

Loki let out a pained groan then, and his heart rate spiked. “He’s tachycardic.” Bruce whirled around to yell for Natasha to hurry, only to find the short assassin already at his side, needle drawn and ready. “Oh, good.” Bruce breathed in relief as he took the needle and gently delivered the drug into Loki’s system. His pulse settled, and the writhing died down with it, but the glowing remained. 

“Could this be what cause his… condition in the first place?” Steve thought aloud, gesturing to Loki’s small frame. Thor shook his shaggy head. “I’m afraid I never put as much effort as I should have into studying the magic arts. That was always Loki’s domain. For magical afflictions such as this, he would have been the first person I would have asked for aid.” 

Bruce dragged his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “Without knowing more about what happened to him, I'm not sure what else I can do.” 

Thor only nodded, his gaze never tearing away from his brother’s still form; his brow pinched in worry. There was a long moment of silence, and Bruce began to shift uncomfortably, when Thor finally glanced up, seeming surprised that they were all still there. “I will watch over him tonight, Doctor. I will let you know if there are any changes.” 

Bruce nodded, giving Thor what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He turned, ushering the other sticky beaks from the room. As he closed the door behind him, he watched Thor plop heavily into the armchair at Loki’s bedside, his face in his hands. The Thunderer suddenly looked a thousand years older, and Bruce frowned. How Loki ever thought Thor didn’t love him, Bruce would never understand. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

Today was a coffee day. 

Natasha didn’t normally drink a lot of coffee; not like Bruce or Tony who seemed to live off the stuff. She much preferred tea, and had procured a wide range of selections over the years – often picking up a new and unusual flavour whenever her missions would take her abroad. But that didn’t happen much these days. 

But that wasn’t the reason today was a coffee day. No, today was a coffee day because they were currently babysitting a de-aged demi-god who would grow up to be a homicidal maniac with daddy issues, but for now, was an innocent child who she kind of actually _liked_ who was currently in some kind of weird, magical coma and _goddammit_ she was _worried_. 

So yes, today was definitely a coffee day. 

Natasha carefully balanced her mug in one hand, her tablet in the other and the book she’d been reading stuffed under an armpit as she manoeuvred up the two flights of stairs to the bedrooms. She knocked twice on Loki’s door, but didn’t wait for a reply before entering. She found Thor blinking awake, clearly having fallen asleep in the chair he had seconded. 

She smiled gently. “Rise and shine.” 

“Good morrrrnrrrrg.” Thor returned, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. 

“Why don’t you let me take over for a bit? There’s breakfast downstairs. You should go eat and get some proper rest. That chair doesn’t look particularly comfortable.” 

Thor chuckled. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” He stretched his arms above his head, something cracking loudly as he did. He stood and moved around to the other side of Loki’s bed while Natasha confiscated the seat he had just vacated, shooing away the little grey kitten that tried to beat her to it. Thor paused, frowning down at his little brother; the soft glow still shimmering above the bed. “He has not stirred all night.” 

She wished she could tell him not to worry, that she was sure his brother would wake up soon, but for some strange reason, she found she couldn’t lie. So instead, she said nothing. 

Natasha set down her book and coffee, and reached out to pull the blankets a little higher around Loki’s shoulders. Suddenly, the orange light seemed to glow brighter. Loki moaned, his brow creasing, and a dark, purple blotch appeared across his jawline, then disappeared just as quickly. “Did you see that?” She half-whispered, her hands frozen where they hovered above the bedspread. 

Thor could only nod, a stunned expression plastered across his face. A long, slim cut appeared down the boy’s collarbone, then was gone. Scratches came and went, followed by more bruises. “Thor, what’s happening?” 

“I-I-I don’t know.” Thor stammered. He crossed to the bed and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. “Loki?” He called softly, but there was still no response from the young prince. 

More injuries seemed to come and go, appearing and disappearing at a rapidly increasing rate – cuts and bruises, burns and gashes – and the glowing grew brighter and brighter until Natasha had to squint to see Loki beneath the glare. The form beneath the bedspread grew; legs elongating until his feet hung off the end of the bed. His face lost the roundness of childhood, becoming all angles and sharp edges. The light grew brighter still, and Natasha had to turn away, bringing her arm up to shield her face. 

She blinked rapidly as the glow died down, orange spots dancing in front of her vision. When she turned her gaze back to the bed, a strangled gasp escaped her throat. The Loki that lay beneath the forest-green sheets was no longer a boy, but a young man; maybe only twenty years of age, if Natasha had to guess. It wasn’t quite the same man Natasha had faced more than ten years ago on the helicarrier; it wasn’t the face that had haunted her nightmares for months afterwards. This face seemed younger, somehow; innocent. His hair was long but neat and shiny, curling down over his shoulders – not the wild, wind-swept mess he’d had in New York. 

Loki let out a long sigh, his face finally relaxing until it looked like he was merely in a peaceful sleep, the orange light disappearing completely. Thor and Natasha exchanged stunned glances. “Maybe we should get Bruce.” Natasha mumbled; not that Bruce could really _do_ anything, but she had no better ideas. 

“Right, of course.” Thor nodded, seemingly thankful for some instruction. He hesitated in the doorway, his gaze lingering on his transformed brother, but he left without another word. Natasha chewed on her lip, wondering if she should wait for Bruce, but her curiosity was really getting the best of her. She lifted out of the chair and placed her knee on the bed, slowly and carefully leaning forward over the sleeping god. She glanced up at the monitor by the head of the bed. His heart rate seemed normal, from what she could tell; it looked like he really was asleep. His features were lax; so different to the round, sweet face of the young boy, and yet, still familiar. His brow more prominent; a tiny, permanent crease between the two eyebrows as if he had spent a lifetime frowning. His cheekbones; high and sharp, the ridge of his nose; straight and strong, his jawline cut from marble. 

Carefully, she hooked a finger around a loose strand of hair that had fallen in his face, flicking it back onto the pillow. She made to gently pry open an eye, to check his pupil response, when suddenly, a hand latched around her wrist. 

He sat bolt-right up so suddenly that Natasha tilted back, breath catching in her throat and her free arm flailing wildly for a split second as she lost her balance and went tumbling backwards off the bed. 

Only she never hit the floor. 

His hand shot out faster than her eyes could track it, latching on to the front on her shirt and yanking her forwards onto the bed. Catching herself with her hands, she whirled back up onto her knees, hands raised and ready to throat-punch him if necessary. Her chest heaved with adrenalin, but when she met Loki’s gaze, his eyes were just as wide as hers. “What... I don’t...” He licked his lips, his eyes darting wildly around the room before landing on her again. “Who are... agh!” He cried out, clutching at his head. She dropped her hands back to the bed to lean forward on them. “Loki?” She called gently, catching his grimace. 

“I am fine.” He said, his voice tight; a clear indication that he was anything but fine. He drew his hands back through his hair and the grimace slipped away with it; like sliding on a mask. “I’m just... I’m trying to...” He looked up at her, meeting her gaze – deep emerald pools; clear and piercing, calculating, studying. “I... know you.” He said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her face. Natasha bit the tip of her tongue to keep it from spilling her name, waiting instead to see if he would get there on his own. 

“Natasha.” He breathed, his eyes widening as if surprised that the name had sprung into his mind. 

Natasha realised suddenly that she was still leaning towards him, and hurriedly sat back on her heels, drawing her hands into her lap. “You remember.” She said, and she herself was unsure whether it was a question or a statement. He nodded distractedly, peering around the room with a frown. “I remember you... from when I was a child.” His gaze snapped back to her then, and his frown deepened. “No, that can’t be right.” He murmured to himself. He leant towards her, studying her with an intensity that made her feel very much like she was a lab rat. She dropped her gaze from his, then realised with a flush of her cheeks that all the buttons on his now-too-small pyjama top had bust open, revealing his surprisingly well-defined and hairless chest. The seams had split, no longer able to fit across his broad shoulders, and the sleeves hung on by a thread. 

Thankfully, Thor chose that moment to return with Bruce, and Natasha tore her gaze from the prince, mentally chastising herself for becoming distracted. 

“Loki!” Thor boomed, a dazzling grin spreading across his face. “You’re awake!” 

Loki’s intense gaze swung to his brother, and his frown deepened. “Thor? What in the Nine happened to your hair?” 

“What? No, nothing, I just-” Thor stumbled over his words, taken by surprise. 

“Yes, clearly.” Loki raised a judgemental eyebrow, then flicked his gaze to the green giant standing just behind his brother. “And… Doctor Banner.” He recalled after a moment. 

Overcoming his shock at Loki’s new appearance, Bruce moved to Loki’s bedside, ignoring the way the prince stiffened momentarily as he checked the numbers on the monitor. “Vitals look good.” He glanced down at the now-fully-grown man in the bed. “Any pain?” 

Loki was curiously studying the IV drip inserted into the back of his left hand. Apparently deciding it was unnecessary, he ripped it out in a single, swift movement, much to Bruce’s dismay. 

“No.” 

Bruce exchanged a disbelieving look with Thor, but didn’t push the issue. “What do you remember?” He asked instead. 

Loki opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again, his brows knitting together. With curious fingers, he plucked the sticky cardiac leads from his chest, twirling them between his fingers before letting them drop to the bed. 

The blankets shifted as Loki drew his long legs up and crossed them, his hands folding in his lap. “I thought... I remember this place, but it seems like a long time since I was here. I remember... I remember being in Asgard, but that can’t be.” His eyes found his brother’s, piercing Thor with a stern and slightly desperate look. “Thor, what happened?” 

Thor swallowed visibly, looking rather like a deer in headlights, but he slowly made his way past Bruce and gingerly took a seat on the very edge of the bed, as if afraid to take up too much space. “We are on Midgard, Loki. The Earth year is 2023.” Loki showed no sign of recognition or surprise, other than the muscle in his cheek twitching and jumping as his jaw worked, so Thor hesitantly continued. “Five years ago, Thanos destroyed half the universe.” 

Loki’s eyes widened. “The Mad Titan?” 

Thor frowned, looking vaguely surprised. “You remember?” 

Loki shook his head. “I remember reading of him and the other Titans in the History Archives – a place I’m sure you’ve never visited.” The quip rolled off Loki’s tongue as if out of habit, and Thor’s mouth twisted in a half-hidden smile. 

“It seemed he’d been gathering the resources to wield the Infinity Gauntlet for some time, without our knowledge.” 

“The Infinity Stones.” Loki murmured, starting slightly when the kitten launched itself up onto the bed and curled up in Loki’s lap. Frowning down at the odd creature, Loki reached out and prodded it gently, but it only snuggled deeper into the bedcovers across his hips. He extended one long finger and ran it over the creature’s tiny head, surprised at how soft its fur was, and how fragile its skull felt. The creature began to emit a strange, low-pitched hum, vibrating under his fingertips, and Loki glanced up in shock only to meet Natasha’s amused smirk. He narrowed his eyes at her briefly before turning his attention back to Thor. 

“We tried to defend the Stones, but he found them one by one. Ragnarök was unleashed, and Asgard fell. Those of us that are left have taken asylum here on Midgard. You... you were protecting one of the Stones. Your tried to stop him, you tried to save me, you tried to save everyone, but he... he... he killed you.” Thor’s throat was becoming too tight to squeeze out the words, and he tried to clear it, taking a deep breath before continuing on. “We – the Avengers and I,” he gestured to Natasha and Bruce, “tried to stop him, but we failed. We lost. He erased half of all life in the universe.” Thor faltered, hanging his great, shaggy head as he drifted into melancholy silence. 

Loki swallowed the information, then looked from his unusually morose brother to glance at Bruce and Natasha, one eyebrow raised in a question. “We tracked Thanos to an uninhabited planet in the Fornix nebula, but he had already destroyed the Infinity Gauntlet.” Natasha continued. 

“Then your brother lopped Thanos’ head off.” Bruce contributed with something like amusement. “And that was that.” 

Natasha shot a glare at Bruce for his interruption, but he either didn’t notice or intentionally avoided it. “Anyway,” she turned her gaze back to Loki, watching his long, pale fingers absentmindedly stroke along the kitten’s spine, “Thor apparently found you wandering around Norway about two months ago, alive and well, except for that fact that you were a kid.” 

Bruce nodded in agreement. “He brought you here to stay with us, but then you, erm, grew.” Bruce fluttered a green hand in Loki’s direction. “The first time happened overnight – you just woke up a few years older. But the second time, uh...” Bruce rubbed at the spot where his glasses sat behind his ear, making them wiggle. He glanced over at Thor and Natasha, both of whom seemed content to let him flail about. “Well, I think, because you used you magic. See, your friend there,” he gestured to the kitten asleep in Loki’s lap, “got hit by a car, and you used your magic to save him, but you passed out. And then you... you...” Bruce shied away from the memory of black veins and piercing screams. He caught the pale hue of Thor’s face and decided to skirt that particular part of the story all together. “You’ve been in a coma for two weeks now.” Bruce finished, shifting awkwardly under the sudden weight that filled the room. 

Natasha’s quiet voice filled the silence. “Last night, something changed. You were sort of... glowing, and then, this morning, you were all grown up again.” 

Loki crooked an eyebrow at her. “Glowing?” 

She shrugged lopsidedly. “Yeah, like a weird, orange light. Like the end of a sunset.” 

A frown etched across Loki’s forehead, his nose crinkled slightly, and Thor seemed to recognise the look. “What is it, brother? Do you know what magic this is?” 

After a pause, Loki shook his head slowly. “I cannot be sure. I may need to wait for more of my memories to return before I can be certain.” 

Bruce glanced between the two brothers. “How long will that take?” 

Loki opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a gurgle as his stomach rumbled loudly. His mouth snapped shut, heat flushing his cheeks until Thor let a soft snort escape, then his expression turned deadly, his eyes narrowing to slits as he glared at his brother as if he could slice his head off with his gaze. 

“Oh, you're probably famished.” Bruce smiled gently, trying not to get skewered by that glare. “You were last time you, er, aged up, and that wasn’t nearly as many years. There's breakfast downstairs, I'm pretty sure.” He took a few steps back, making to head for the door, and Thor also stood. Loki rolled the cat off his lap, ignoring its angry yowl, and stood. He frowned down at the busted open shirt and pants that only came to his shins, and Natasha was glad his back was to her so he couldn’t see her trying to contain her grin. With a flick of his hand, the too-small pyjamas were replaced with booted feet, soft-looking leather pants, and an emerald-green cotton shift wrapped in a black leather jacket. 

It was far less ostentatious and pretentious than the outfit she had seen him in over a decade ago, but the familiarity sent a jolt through her that made her trigger finger itch, and she rubbed her thumb over it soothingly. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

“Morgan, listen to your mother. If you don’t eat your porridge, I'll have to feed you to the fishes.” 

Morgan giggled through a mouthful of oatmeal, dribbling some of it down her chin. “No, dad! Fishes don’t eat people!” 

“Oh yes they do,” Tony confirmed solemnly, ignoring the roll of Pepper’s eyes, “just ask Uncle Steve.” Steve turned at the sound of his name, the pancake on his spatula wobbling dangerously. A malicious glint in his eye, Tony leaned in closer to the 5-year-old to whisper conspiratorially. “When he lived underwater for seventy years, the fishes ate half his brain!” Morgan laughed manically while Steve only rolled his eyes and went back to his pancakes. 

Bruce’s hulking figure appeared in the doorway then, his expression oddly apprehensive for so early in the morning. “Morning, Jolly Green.” He waved the napkin in his hand at Bruce in greeting, before returning to attempting to wipe the porridge from his daughter's face. 

“Mornin’ Jolly Green.” She parroted, waving her spoon about and depositing a lump of oat sludge on the table. 

“Morning guys,” Bruce replied distractedly, “so, uh, look who’s awake.” 

“About time.” Tony declared, “I’ve been waiting for Sleeping Beauty to- what in the unholy...” Tony snapped his trap shut abruptly as a full-grown-ass Loki swept into the room, leather pants and all. There was a wet splat as Steve, startled, incorrectly flipped a pancake and it landed raw-side down on the floor. 

“Talk about a growth spurt.” Tony recovered quickly as Thor and Natasha also slipped into the room. 

“Does this mean... he’s back to his old self again?” Steve queried from somewhere below waist level as he scraped pancake batter off the floor. 

“Not quite.” Thor answered, picking up a plate from the stack at the end of the table. He began loading it up with the assortment of breakfast foods Steve had laid out. “I would guess he is still missing a few centuries of memories. What is the last event you remember, brother?” 

Loki, who had been hovering half in the doorway, eyeing the strangers with suspicion, now flicked his calculating gaze to his brother. His brow creased as he tried to remember. “I believe it was Mother’s fourth millennial celebrations.” He answered slowly. 

Thor paused for a moment, silently doing the mental arithmetic. “That was about a century and a half ago, give or take.” Tony let out a low whistle as Thor set the plate down at the head of the table and pulled out the chair. “Here, Loki, try some of the Midgardian food. This flat bread here is called a pancake, it goes especially well with this tree syrup.” Thor excitedly dragged the jug of maple syrup towards Loki’s plate. Loki raised a dubious eyebrow, but he did sidle further into the room, warily eyeing each of the Avengers in turn. 

“So, if he’s still 150 years in the past, does that mean he doesn’t remember us?” Tony asked curiously. 

“Loki! Loki!” Morgan cried joyously as Loki stopped at the end of the table. Before Tony could grab her, she’d launched out of her seat and wrapped her little arms around Loki’s leg. She looked up at the young prince with big, sad eyes. “You don’t remember us?” 

To Tony’s complete surprise, Loki actually smiled. “Of course I do, Lady Morgan.” He reassured, gracing her with a low, flourishing bow. Morgan giggled delightedly, releasing Loki’s leg to twirl about the dining table. 

“I do remember you, Stark.” Loki said, straightening. His green eyes flickered over Tony as if mapping his features; it set Tony on edge. “My memories are just not... linear.” To prove his point, he then turned and inclined his head toward Steve. “Captain Steve.” His gaze then fell on Pepper, and he frowned. “Forgive me, but I don’t...” 

“Actually, we never formally met. I’m Pepper Stark.” Pepper offered her hand for him to shake, smiling politely. Loki took her hand gently and bowed over it, making Pepper’s cheeks match her hair colour. Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, so great; he remembers us, he just doesn’t remember the part where he tried to kill us.” 

“I – what?” Loki dropped Pepper’s hand, suddenly aghast. 

“Stark.” Steve scolded as he placed the fresh batch of pancakes on the table. 

“What?” Tony threw his hands out defensively. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.” 

“It was ten years ago, and Thor said you were... going through a rough patch at the time, so...” Bruce shrugged, offering Loki a kind smile. 

“So yeah, don’t even worry about throwing me out a window, all is forgiven apparently.” Tony only grinned at the dirty looks being thrown his way, but Loki frowned, stroking at his chin in thought. “And you all survived this attack? I must not have been trying very hard.” 

“Hey! I take offense to that. I had to catch a whole nuke! Do you know how heavy those things are?” 

“Shut _up_ , Stark.” 

“Rogers, why don’t you kiss my-” 

“Now, now boys,” Natasha piped up from her quiet perch on the edge of the kitchen bench. “You can settle this by the swings later. I’d still like to know how Loki got here in the first place.” She turned her attention to the god in question, her well-trained gaze missing nothing. “If he didn’t do this himself, that means someone did this to him. And I’d like to know who, and why.” 

“Does it matter?” Thor asked with a shrug as Loki took the seat at the end of the table and began trying to decipher the array of foods on his plate. “I have my brother back. I won’t – what’s the saying? Look in a horse’s mouth?” 

“Gift horse.” Tony corrected, pulling the colouring pencils out of Morgan’s backpack to keep her distracted for a while. 

“It matters.” Loki said, spearing a strawberry with his fork and giving it a tentative sniff before popping it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before turning to Thor. “How did you know I was dead?” 

“Er, what?” Thor stuttered, caught off guard by the question. 

“You said Thanos killed me. I take it you saw me die then? What did you do with my body?” Loki asked, rather nonchalantly for someone who was talking about their own death while pouring syrup on their pancakes. Thor, on the other hand, looked like he had swallowed a bag of lemons. He flopped heavily into a chair, tugging at his scraggly beard. “Yes, I saw... I saw it happen. I heard your neck snap. I held... held your body. But the ship we were on was breaking apart. I tried to hold on, but we were drifting through space and I... I lost consciousness.” The Asgardian hung his head in shame. “I must have let go. I’m sorry.” 

Loki only waved off the apology with his fork, seemingly lost in some other thought. 

“What? You think you rose from the dead?” Tony’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “If this is about to turn into a zombie movie, we’re out of here.” 

“Surely that’s impossible, even for a god.” Bruce frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Generally, yes.” Loki nodded, moving on to the scrambled eggs next. “Even I am not that powerful a sorcerer.” 

“So, then, what’s your theory?” Natasha prodded, slipping from the bench to take a seat at the table next to Steve. 

“Theory?” Loki repeated, giving a mini breakfast sausage an experimental sniff before putting it back on his plate. He picked up the toast instead. 

“Yes. You obviously have one or you wouldn’t have asked such specific questions.” 

Loki eyed her for a moment, before a slow smile crawled across his face. “A few.” He set down his knife and fork, his expression becoming thoughtful. “There are things that exist that are more powerful than death – not many, but a few. But none explain why I was returned in a juvenile state. If I am to simply cycle through my life again – which seems to be the case – then I will soon die in the same manner as I have before.” 

“Loki, no! There must be something we can-” Loki held up a finger to stay his brother’s outcry. 

“But if this was done intentionally,” Loki continued, “then I don’t see what purpose that would serve.” 

“Maybe you're supposed to do something differently?” Steve interjected, “Something you didn’t do last time?” 

Loki cocked his head to the side. “It is possible.” 

Natasha turned to Tony abruptly. “Do you think this could be what Strange meant? About the one possible future?” 

Tony screwed up his eyes, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of his palm. “Geez, Romanov, will you let that go already? I don’t know what the guy meant because he never explained anything _remotely_ useful. If he’d actually known how to win, don’t you think he might’ve, oh I don’t know, _told us_?” 

Natasha levelled him with a chilling glare. “ _Tony_.” Pepper reprimanded quietly. Tony threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Who is Strange?” Loki asked quizzically, glancing between Tony and Natasha. 

“You’ve met him, actually.” Thor answered with a humorous look. “You just don’t remember yet.” 

“He was a sorcerer of Earth.” Natash dragged a glass towards her and poured herself some juice. “He was guarding the Time Stone when Thanos attacked. Before he died, he told Tony that he had seen every possible future, but there is only one version where we won.” 

“Clearly, not this version.” Tony muttered. 

“I see.” Loki leaned back in his chair, tapping at his chin thoughtfully. “It’s another possibility. If the version of me that died at Thanos’ hand is truly dead, then there are only two outcomes. I am either that same version, and therefore will die a predetermined death in due course, or a different version entirely.” 

Steve shook his head. “Is anyone else lost here? Anyone?” 

“What do you mean a different version?” Natasha leaned eagerly forward in her seat. 

Loki's long fingers tapped on the table as he spoke. “Other versions, other times. Even your version, from an earlier time.” 

“Wait, wait.” Bruce pushed his glasses further up his nose, his brow furrowed. “You're not talking about time travel... Are you?” 

“Well, I’ll be.” Steve muttered under his breath. 

“'Time travel,’” Tony scoffed, “are you serious? That’s completely theoretical. There’s a million reasons why it’s impossible to actually _physically_ transverse time.” 

Loki just shrugged. “It’s only a theory.” 

“Okay, but wait,” Steve rubbed at his temple, looking like he was trying to keep his brain from exploding, “if you’re not you... I mean if you’re a different version of you, then how come everything that happened to you... to our version of you... is still happening to you?” 

Loki picked a stray blueberry from his plate and popped it in his mouth. “Either I am this version, in which case someone has altered this timeline, or I am a different version, but one that is not that different, and perhaps only recently diverged from a similar timeline. I can only assume I will have to wait for my memories to return to know which is the case.” 

“Jesus, this is starting to feel like an episode of Doctor Who.” Tony scrubbed his hands through his hair, making it stick up. 

Loki raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Another one of your Midgardian sorcerers?” 

“No. Not exactly. He’s-” 

“He’s actually from the planet Gallifrey.” Tony quickly interjected before Bruce could spoil it. 

Pepper rolled her eyes. “He’s joking. Doctor Who is a fictional character.” 

“Aww, Pep.” Tony pouted at her. “Why you gotta ruin my fun?” 

Pepper continued to look mildly pleased with herself. 

“You okay, Loki?” Tony stopped pouting at Bruce’s question and glanced up to see Loki rubbing at his forehead. “Pain? Headache?” 

“No. I am fine.” Loki stopped suddenly, and when he raised his head, Tony was surprised to see a huge grin splitting his face. “At least, not as painful as it was to see Thor in a wedding dress.” 

Thor spluttered, showing an impressive range of hues as he first went pale, then red. “That wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t… That was _your_ idea!” 

Loki’s grin was infectious as it spread around the table. 

“Your big day, Thor?” Steve teased, chuckling. 

“Oh, most assuredly.” Loki’s grin turned devious. “He was, after all, marrying the King of the Trolls.” 

“This. Is. _Fabulous._ ” Tony declared among the barely-contained snickering of the others. 

“I don’t know why you think that’s so funny, _you_ were my bridesmaid, after all.” Thor waved an accusing finger at his brother, and another wave of snickers erupted around the table. 

“Well, yes,” Loki conceded with a nod, “I, however, looked like this.” Loki’s body momentarily glowed an eerie green, and a second later, the young god was replaced by a goddess in a gorgeous, plum-coloured silk dress that clung to her _very_ ample bosom; long, black hair falling over her slim shoulders, and piercing green eyes looking mighty smug. Tony had to pick his jaw up off the floor. “Pepper. Pep, I want one. Can I have one? I want one.” 

Even Natasha looked impressed. “Well _that_ could certainly come in handy.” 

“That’s amazing.” Bruce muttered, wiping his glasses on his shirt in order to see better. 

She-Loki grinned; plump lips stretching over perfect teeth. “This? This is easy. Thor, on the other hand,” she purred, “looked like _this_.” 

The goddess disappeared in another haze of green, and in her place was an extremely grumpy looking Thor; his broad shoulders and muscular arms stuffed into a white, puffy-sleeved dress complete with a lacy veil. By this point, Tony was howling with laughter, and he wasn’t the only one. 

“Laugh all you want, but this clever ploy did save Freya from that ill-conceived marriage.” Thor sulked, crossing his arms. 

“Aye, right you are, brother. And she was _very_ grateful.” Loki smirked once he had turned back into his regular, princely self. Thor only rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, but, serious question.” Tony leaned forward in his seat, steepling his hands beneath his chin. “Can you turn back into the woman again? Cause I mean, _wow_.” 

Pepper smacked him across the chest. “Ow. What? I’m just asking for a friend!” 

Apparently, no one believed him. 


	6. Of Balls and Bad Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs featured in this chapter:  
> The Very Thought of You – Nat King Cole   
> Asi se baila el tango – Veronica Verdier 

“You look ridiculous.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, it’s disgusting.” 

“It’s fashionable!” 

“And it smells like Baldr’s socks.” 

“Well, I happen to like it.” 

“For Ymir’s sake, Thor.” Loki rolled his eyes, “Don’t think I won’t _make_ you.” 

Thor opened his mouth to retort, but clearly had none, and snapped it shut again. “Fine.” He huffed eventually, “But not too short!” 

Natasha looked up from her book to study the thunder god carefully. “The beard too,” she added, “that’s gotta go.” 

“You heard the Lady.” Loki grinned, looking rather smug. He flicked his wrist upward, and the brush on the table zoomed over to begin attacking Thor’s hair. 

“Ouch! Ow! That’s attached to my head, you know!” Thor cried, wincing every time the brush tried to rip through the knotted matts. 

“Well, that’s what you get for not brushing your hair for five years.” Loki said coolly, picking up the scissors and inspecting them before moving to stand behind his brother. 

“Four and – ow! – a half.” 

“Regardless, it’s shameful.” Loki chastised, snipping away at Thor’s dreaded locks. Thor grumbled unintelligibly, and Natasha raised her book higher to hide her smirk. “You guys _are_ going to be ready soon, right?” Natasha narrowed her eyes at the brothers over the top of her novel. “If you make me late, _I’ll_ shave your head myself.” 

Loki chuckled at her benign threat. “Don’t fret, Miss Romanov, I’ll have him ready.” Natasha almost rolled her eyes at the formality. She had tried to get him to stop calling her Lady Natasha, and just go with Nat instead like everybody else, but he had obstinately refused. She finally talked him into a compromise with Miss Romanov, though even that made her feel like she was stuck in a Jane Austen novel. 

“Good.” Natasha set down her book. “I’m gonna shower and change. Let Steve know we’re leaving in an hour if he wants to change his mind.” 

Loki inclined his head towards her by way of acknowledgement, too focused on making sure Thor’s length was even. 

Natasha scurried upstairs to her room, showered, and began to dress. As this was a black-tie event, she pulled on a black, velvet number that would help her blend into the crowd. Old habits die hard. 

Putting the finishing touches on her makeup, she fussed at her hair, trying to find a style that would make it look at least halfway decent. She gave up on wearing it out; instead, pinning it into an updo and trying to tuck in the blonde strands as much as possible. She didn’t know why she hadn't cut it yet, or at least dyed it; she just couldn’t seem to bring herself to care enough. She picked out some earrings, and her hand hovered over the collection of conceal-carry pistols in her drawer. She hadn’t intended on it, but now, with Loki... 

It had been strange, seeing the face that had haunted her nightmares for months now wandering the halls, or chatting over breakfast. He was polite, and courteous, but very guarded, and it set Natasha ill at ease. She didn’t trust a nice version of Loki – wasn’t sure she could believe it existed. The only times she’d thought she’d caught a glimpse of something real was when he was bantering with his brother, throwing around casual insults like a tennis match. But even that itself could be an act. The Loki she knew ten years ago was clever enough to pull it off, and she knew, somewhere along the line, this kind, sweet Loki would turn into _that_ Loki. And if she wasn’t paying attention, she might not even see the change coming. 

Natasha picked up her Widow Bites and dropped them into her clutch, just to be safe. 

Grabbing her coat and heels, she headed down the stairs, and found Steve in the kitchen. “Didn’t change your mind?” She asked casually, hopping up onto a stool to slip the strappy heels on. Steve shook his head, blowing on the hot coffee he was cradling to his chest. “Nah, not my scene.” 

She nodded, knowingly, and didn’t push any further. Besides Clint, their loss had probably hit Steve the hardest. He’d tried to carry on, at first; aided the rebuilding effort, promoted the charities, encouraged the support groups. But Steve was a lot like Natasha – they were soldiers, and without orders to give or follow, they quickly lost their way. Natasha dealt by turning herself into a command centre, stubbornly refusing to believe this was the end, but Steve wallowed in guilt. He avoided large crowds and gatherings now, knowing that for every person he saw, someone was missing. 

Natasha heard the car Tony had sent for them pull up outside, and she slipped off the chair, fiddling with her dress. “You look great, Nat.” Steve nodded in approval, sensing her discomfort. 

“Thanks.” She offered him a quick smile, willing her hands to stop their nervous fussing. “It just feels too... normal, you know?” Steve hummed in agreement, nodding. 

“Are you sure this is right?” 

Natasha heard the clatter of rushed footsteps follow the voices down the stairs and turned, expectantly. 

“Yes, now stop tugging at it.” 

“It feels tight.” 

“I’ve been here longer than _you_ , I know how to tie a bow-tie, Loki!” 

The brothers rounded the corner into the kitchen, and Natasha felt her eyebrows crawl up her head. “Not bad,” she nodded approvingly, “you boys scrub up nicely.” It was an understatement. Loki had done a surprisingly good job with Thor’s hair. It was now clean and dreadlock free; the top half of the shoulder-length cut pulled back in a ponytail. His beard had been clipped closer to his face; the edges clean and tidy. Where Thor had gone for the simple tie and jacket, Loki wore a sleek, fitted tux, complete with a dark, hunter green vest and matching bow tie. His long, raven-black hair pooled over his shoulders in soft, perfect-looking curls that Natasha had never been able to achieve without an entire can of hairspray. 

Shoving aside her hair envy, Natasha shrugged on the faux-fur coat and turned to say goodbye to Steve. “Our ride’s here.” 

“Say hi to Pepper for me.” Steve waved them out the door. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a long drive out to the sprawling countryside manor that housed the orphanage, being that she was sandwiched between two very solid Asgardians. Between Thor’s extra padding around the middle, and Loki’s too-long legs cramping up her space, Natasha was glad when they could finally scramble out onto the paved entrance, silently cursing Tony for not splurging on a stretch limo. 

She glanced up at the sky, and frowned at the dark, blue-tinged clouds swirling above. “C’mon,” she linked arms with the two Asgardian princes and steered them towards the stone steps. “I don’t want to get wet.” 

They hurried to the warmth of the entrance, Natasha’s heels clacking loudly on the cobblestones, and found Fara waiting to greet them. “Welcome, welcome!” She boomed cheerily, and for a moment, Natasha panicked, realising she hadn’t devised an explanation to who this full-grown Loki was. She needn’t have worried because, of course, Fara already knew. “So glad you could make it, Natasha dear. And you’ve brought your handsome friends!” Fara wrapped Natasha in a tight hug, beaming over the short assassin’s shoulder at the two brothers. “This one certainly grew into an attractive young man, ah?” Fara muttered in her ear, then winked at her conspiratorially as she released her. Natasha ducked her head to hide her grin, pretending to take great interest in the young, redheaded boy who took Natasha’s cloak and handed her a numbered ticket in return. 

“Tony and Bruce are already here, I assume?” 

“Yes, they are inside.” Fara waved a bejewelled hand in the direction of the Great Hall. “Go in, go in! Out of the cold, ah, before you catch your death.” Natasha thanked the matron and the three of them headed down the left corridor, following the sound of the live jazz band. 

“I did not realise Midgard had Seers.” Loki spoke up so quietly that it almost startled her. 

“You remember meeting her?” Natasha asked, curious. 

“Vaguely, yes. But even if I didn’t, I could sense the hint of magic about her.” 

Natasha glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, silently storing that piece of information away for later. The corridor led to an enormous ballroom, decorated in the night’s Winter Wonderland theme with streamers of blue and white, garlands of fake snow, and giant, opalescent snowflakes that hung from the ceiling. A five-piece band played smooth jazz from the stage at the far end of the room while a handful of people danced in the centre, and the rest milled about the edges, drinking and gossiping. 

“There’s Bruce.” Natasha gestured to a familiar face over by the bar. It was easy enough to spot him in the crowd, being that he was head and shoulders taller than everybody else, and also bright green. “C’mon, I need a drink anyway.” She slipped easily though the crowd, nimbly sidestepping partygoers. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Thor and Loki were keeping pace, only to see Thor had mistakenly pilfered an entire tray of hors d’oeuvres, and was happily munching on them as Loki looked appropriately disgusted. 

She sidled up to the bar first, throwing Bruce a subtle wave when he caught her eye. Pepper and Tony were deeply involved in conversation with someone, but she couldn’t see who behind Bruce’s massive frame. “Gin and tonic, please.” She told the tall bartender, and he set about pouring her drink with a nod. “...can’t you see everyone else is taking one piece. _One!”_

“Well excuse me, but this is a well-documented Midgardian custom known as ‘Eating your Feelings’. It’s a cultural thing.” 

She turned to see Loki rolling his eyes as the brothers approached, humour dancing in Thor’s eyes as he signalled the bartender. “A beer, please. Whatever’s the strongest.” 

“Hey, Nat!” Tony called, having finally noticed her arrival. Or maybe Bruce had given in and told him. “Was wondering when you and the Wonder Twins were coming.” Natasha picked up her drink and joined her friends, finally spying who Tony had been talking to. A tall, beautifully dark-skinned woman stood in stark comparison next to the short, pale doctor. “Nat, you remember Dr Helen Cho, and Ambassador Ororo, of the Wakandan Embassy?” 

“Yes, of course.” Natasha tried on a warm smile. “Good to see you again, Doctor. Ambassador.” The petite, dark-haired woman smiled back, her sparkly bangles jangling as she gave a little wave. Ambassador Ororo nodded gracefully. 

She felt a presence behind her, and glanced up out of the corner of her eye to see Loki looming, his brother not far behind. 

“Oh, and these are our intergalactic house guests, Thor and-” 

“Prince Loki, of Asgard.” Loki interrupted before Tony could finish, taking both women’s hands in turn and bending to kiss them, delighting in the blush it brought to their cheeks. Natasha struggled to contain her eye roll. 

They returned to their discussion of the Wakandan developments in biogenetic engineering, and Loki insinuated himself with ease. He seemed so relaxed, confident, and she realised he was in his element, rubbing elbows with the upper echelon and charming the pants off of foreign dignitaries and chancellors. He reminded her a little of herself, when she used to do these kind of missions – able to fit in with any crowd, or schmooze any mobster. She could play any role, but when the mask had come off, she was a blank slate, unsure how to act without being a caricature. She wondered if Loki had figured it out, or if he was just as lost beneath the mask as she was. 

Draining the last of her drink, she excused herself from the group and went to find another. The bartender had her order ready before she even asked, a knowing smile on his face. She downed half of it on the first go, wanting to shake off this sudden attack of melancholia, and instead focussed her attention on the band. 

“Duller than you thought it would be?” Loki’s voice nearly made her jump, and she turned around to shoot him a glare. 

“No.” She shrugged, “It just... reminds me a little of work.” 

“Ah, the secretive spy.” She looked at him sharply, and he grinned. “Stark informed me.” 

Natasha just pursed her lips, imagining all the wonderful things she’d like to do to Tony bloody Stark. The band started in on the next song – slow strings accompanied the piano in a melody that Natasha recognised, and her foot tapped along. 

Loki shifted around to block her view just as the old Blues singer stepped up to the microphone, and stooped to offer his hand. “Care to dance?” When she didn’t immediately answer, his smile widened, emerald eyes sparkling with mirth. “I promise you, it won’t feel like work.” 

She hesitated a moment, wary, but as the singer began to croon into the microphone, she reached out and placed her hand in his. 

_"The very thought of you, and I forget to do...”_

He led her out to the centre of the dance floor and clasped her right hand loosely in his, splaying his other hand across the middle of her back. She was surprised when he took the lead with strong, deliberate movements, leading her artfully through a gentle waltz. 

_"I’m living in a kind of daydream, I’m happy as a king...”_

“May I ask a question about this ‘charity ball’, as you called it?” He ventured, his feet as light as hers as they glided across the floor. 

Natasha shrugged one shoulder, the warmth of his hand brushing over bare skin as her dress shifted with the movement. “Shoot.” 

Loki frowned down at her, then quickly looked both ways, his eyes searching for the threat. 

“No, I mean, yes, go ahead.” Natasha’s lips twisted as she tried to suppress the grin that wanted to burst through. 

“Ah. Well, I thought this event was being held in honour of the children who lived here, and yet, there are no children.” 

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, unfortunately the people who come to these things don’t always do so for the right reasons. They’re more concerned about being seen as generous, rather than being generous for generosity’s sake. Just because they’re donating to an orphanage doesn’t mean any of them actually _like_ kids. It’s a prestige thing.” She glanced up at him, studying his reaction with curiosity. “You do, though.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I do, what?” 

“Like kids.” 

The second eyebrow raised to join the first in surprise. “You thought I wouldn’t?” 

Natasha licked at her lips as she mulled over her reply. “I suppose I may have assumed some things about you considering you tried to drop a helicarrier on me.” She had meant for it to come off as a joke, but the discomfort that passed across his face told her she had failed miserably. She frowned, her head tipping to the side. “Thor did tell you about that, didn’t he?” 

“He mentioned my last venture to Midgard was somewhat... pernicious, though he was rather scarce on details.” 

“Hmm,” she nodded abstractly as they turned in slow, graceful circles, “you know, there’s one missing piece of that story that’s always bugged me. According to Thor, you left Asgard, then showed up here with an Infinity Stone and an alien army in attempt to steal another Infinity Stone. But what happened between there and here? I can only assume Thanos found you, or maybe you found him, but why? And if you knew what Thanos was up to, why would you not have warned Thor? Or anybody?” 

Loki frowned down at her, his lips pursed. “I regret that I cannot yet give you the answer you are looking for. Perhaps in time...” 

Natasha shook her head, interrupting him. “I know, you don’t remember. It’s just the only piece that didn’t fit.” 

A sleek grin pulled at the corners of his lips, jade-cut eyes dancing in refracted light. “A curious mind. I do enjoy that about you.” 

She cocked an indifferent brow, levelling him with a blank stare. “Certainly a different sentiment than the last time you were here. When we first met, you called me a ‘mewling quim’.” 

“Oh dear, how rude of me.” Loki said, not looking the least bit ashamed. 

“Quite. Even more so because I had to look up what ‘quim’ meant.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and Loki barked out a genuine laugh. He led her through a slow fleckerl, the room spinning around them like a multicolour whirl. 

“My turn now.” She declared as they moved fluidly into a close box step. “Last week; you were talking about different versions of yourself, from different times.” 

“Ah,” he smiled knowingly, green eyes twinkling, “piqued your interest, did I?” 

“Stark said physical time travel wasn’t possible,” she continued on, ignoring his teasing, “but obviously, you know something he doesn’t, if you think it’s a valid theory as to how you got here.” She caught the glimmer of excitement in his eye, like he’d been waiting for her to find all the jigsaw pieces so he could show her how they fit together. “And if there’s multiple versions of you, is there multiple versions of everything; say, the Infinity Stones?” 

His smile widened to a dazzling grin; “A bold plan, Miss Romanov.” 

She felt her heart catch as he dangled the hook in front of her. “So, it is possible then? To find Infinity Stones from other timelines?” 

He took on a look of contemplation, one brow arcing up his forehead. “To find them? I suppose. To bring them to this timeline and wield them? That's an entirely different request. Not only has your technology not yet reached the level of successful transtemporal navigation, but the effects of removing such powerful objects from one timeline entirely could be cataclysmal.” 

“Someone removed _you_.” She said, eyebrow cocked pointedly. 

He snorted. “Yes, well, as much as I’d like to think I am as powerful and ancient as the six singularities that created the universe itself, I am decidedly _not_.” 

“Still,” she prodded, wheedling for the answer she wanted, “someone put you here, in our path, in our time. That had to be for a reason.” 

His eyes narrowed at her, and she pulled on an expression of innocent curiosity. “Again, I do not yet know if that scenario is indeed the case. Until I have my memories...” 

“Fine, fine.” She huffed quickly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. He’d been answering questions the same way for almost a week now, and it was starting to drive her insane. “But, maybe you could mention it to Stark? He might actually take it seriously coming from you.” 

“I am quite certain you are able to _make_ him listen to you, Miss Romanov.” Loki quipped, a smirk pulling across his lips. 

“Unfortunately, kidnapping and torture is generally frowned upon amongst friends.” Natasha sighed, sounding genuinely disappointed. “He thinks I've become... obsessed. That I’m in denial.” She screwed up her nose at the word, and Loki laughed. “Alright, as a favour to you, I will think on it.” He conceded, inclining his head to her. “But I do not want to get your hopes up.” 

Natasha nodded, biting the side of her tongue to suppress the grin that threatened to burst through. It was already too late for that. 

_“It’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love.”_

As the song crescendoed, he dropped his hand from her spine and flung her out into a spin, then pulled her back to dip her slowly over his left arm. 

He tipped her upright again as the song ended, and she waggled an eyebrow at him, mildly impressed. “I didn’t take you for a dancer, either.” 

“A requirement among nobility.” Loki shrugged, then regarded her thoughtfully, viridian eyes inspecting her form. “You are quite good yourself, for a mortal.” 

Natasha smirked at the half-compliment. “I’ve had classical training. Part of the regimen when I was... growing up.” The band started up again – short, sharp piano notes, followed by the slow whine of the violin. “Ah,” a Machiavellian grin spread across Loki’s face, all flashing teeth and dangerous intentions, “well, in that case, perhaps I should – what is the phrase – ‘up my game?’” 

The bass kicked in, and Loki jerked her to him; his arm across her lower back pressing their bodies tightly together. She swallowed her gasp at the sudden contact, only glaring up at him with a challenge in her eyes, and he accepted it with delight. 

_"Asi_ _se_ _baila_ _el tango...”_

The space around them cleared as he whipped her into a fiery tango, other dancers shuffling out of the way. Normally Natasha avoided the centre of attention at all costs, but as Loki led her through a series of boleos and ganchos, she found herself grinning like a mad woman. It had been a long time since she’d had cause to smile, and an even longer time since she’d actually let her guard down enough to allow _fun_. 

She kicked her leg out, dragging it up his thigh to wrap over his hip in a piernazo. Loki took three sweeping steps back, dragging her with him across the floor. Their hips twisted to the beat, legs wrapping and unwrapping, and the faces in the crowd became a blur as he twirled her dizzyingly fast. He pulled her back to him and bent low, wrapping one arm around her thighs and lifting her overhead with ease. She wrapped her legs around his waist and released her grip on his shoulders, swan diving backwards with her arms outstretched as the song came to a climax. The crowd burst into applause, and even from her upside-down position she could see it was Tony and Pepper who were wolf-whistling. 

Loki extended a hand down to her, pulling her upright so that she could unhook her feet and put them back on solid ground. Her pulse hammered away in her neck, but she noticed with mild envy that Loki wasn’t panting at all. He grinned down at her, mischief twinkling in his eyes; “Quite good indeed.” 

Natasha was just glad her face was still red from her inverted finale so that she didn’t have to hide her blush. 

The crowd parted easily for them as they moved to join the others. “Hey, Patrick Swayze, you wanna ease up? The rest of us have got dates to impress too, you know?” Tony complained, subtly side-eyeing Pepper who was grinning from ear to ear. Loki frowned, shooting a querying look at his brother. “A fictional character.” Thor explained; “The story of a poor dance instructor who overcame class prejudices to win the heart of a high-class lady through his impressive dance abilities.” The group turned to stare at Thor with varying amounts of surprise. “What? Jane made me watch it.” 

“It _was_ impressive.” Bruce interjected, drawing the attention away from the thunder god just as Tony opened his mouth to say something likely inflammatory. “I didn’t know you could dance like that, Nat.” 

Natasha shrugged off the compliment. “I haven’t in a long time. Nice to know I still can, I guess. Though, I do need another drink now.” She glanced over to the bar to see how long the line was. “Me too, I’ll come with.” Bruce offered, and the pair made their way through the crowd. 

“Tony, we’d better go find Fara. You need to get ready for your speech soon.” Pepper said, glancing at her watch. 

“You got it, Boss.” Tony gave her a mock salute, then made a face when Pepper rolled her eyes and dragged him away. Thor chuckled after the squabbling pair fondly. He glanced over at his brother from the corner of his eye, watching the younger prince eye the crowd with mild interest. Loki had always liked to people-watch. It had once bored Thor to no end. Now, he was just glad to witness the sharp eyes and quick mind once again. 

“I think you might have impressed Natasha.” Thor grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Though, it is hard to tell with her. She’s a lot like you.” 

“Incredibly attractive?” Loki supplied with an impish grin, snagging a flute of champagne off a passing waiter. 

“No,” Thor said, trying very hard not to roll his eyes as they made their way towards the front of the room in preparation for Tony’s speech. “I meant, hard to read.” 

“Ah,” Loki nodded seriously, “yes, reading never was your strong suit, was it?” Where Thor once might have scolded Loki for his insolence, he now found himself laughing instead. 

“Ah brother, I have even missed your sharp tongue.” Thor chortled, clapping his brother on the back. “New Asgard is not Asgard without you getting into all sorts of mischief.” 

Loki’s eyebrows shot up his head at Thor’s unexpected reaction, but he recovered quickly as the band finished up and Fara took to the stage to introduce Stark. “Speaking of which,” Loki started slowly, lowering his voice as Fara thanked a long list of benefactors, “when will we be returning? Not that I don’t mind shirking responsibility but, we’ve been hanging with your Avenger friends for almost a week now. We should be getting back to the kingdom. At least, what’s left of it.” 

Thor fidgeted uncomfortably, purposefully avoiding Loki’s gaze. “It’s fine, Valkyrie’s in charge, she can handle it.” 

Loki frowned, pursing his lips. “You cannot neglect your duties, Thor. Surely our people need guidance and stability, now more than ever. You are their King.” 

“No.” Thor quickly corrected, a little too firmly, and he lowered his voice back to a whisper. “Not anymore.” 

“What do you mean, no?” Loki scoffed, “Father is dead. You _are_ the King, whether you like it or not.” 

Thor sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Why do you nag me so?” 

“Because neither Mother nor Sif are here to do so. I like to think I’m continuing their legacy.” Loki smirked, taking a dainty sip of champagne. Thor gave his brother a flat look, but then an idea sparked in his eyes. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you do it?” 

“Do what?” Loki asked absently, having gone back to watching the crowd. 

“Be King.” 

Loki very nearly spat wine all over the floor. 

_“Me?”_

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Thor.” Loki scowled at him. 

“Why not?” Thor turned to regard his brother seriously. “You were always far better at dealing with matters of court than I was.” 

“That’s because you never _listened_ -” 

“You’ve always been better with politics. I've never had the patience to deal with all the dignitaries and foreign ministers.” 

“-too busy off galivanting with the Warriors Three.” 

“Most of Asgard’s prized possessions came from your trade deals.” 

“Because you never bothered to even _read_ the agreements of-” 

“You’re more intelligent, level-headed, rational.” 

“Well, I can’t argue with you there.” 

“You’re better suited to the throne than I ever was.” 

Loki sighed, meeting Thor’s eyes briefly before turning his gaze back over the faceless crowd. “I can’t.” 

Thor fought the sudden urge to grab hold of his brother and shake him. “Loki, I just listed all the reasons why you-” 

“I can't be King, Thor,” Loki interrupted quickly, the words tumbling from his mouth, “I’m not the first-born son, I'm not the heir, I’m not even...I’m not...even...” Thor’s expression softened as he realised his brother’s greatest fear. He reached out to place a firm, comforting hand on the younger god’s shoulder. “They _will_ accept you, Loki.” 

Loki turned to meet his brother’s gaze, and for a moment, Thor caught a glimpse of the fear that swam in a sea of green, but it was quickly shuttered away again; heavy curtains drawn. Loki scoffed, curling his lip. “Only _you_ would assume such a sentimental reason.” 

“Lokiiii,” Thor chided with a frown, “it does not matter that you’re-” 

“That I’m _what_?” Loki hissed, his expression suddenly thunderous. “Have you already told them all about me? Like you’ve told all your little human friends?” 

“I didn’t mean it like-” 

“Or perhaps you haven’t told them,” Loki continued on as if Thor hadn’t spoken, “perhaps you haven't yet had the heart to tell your subjects that your _dear brother_ is a-” Loki’s jaw snapped suddenly, and he let out a pained grunt, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. 

“Loki? Are you alright?” Thor asked, all former frustration momentarily replaced by concern. 

“Fine.” Loki straightened, waving him off. He backpedalled a few steps as Thor tried to approach. “Your rambling idiocy is just hurting my brain. Leave me be a while.” 

“Loki, wait!” Thor whisper-yelled as Loki slipped away into the crowd. He didn’t want to interrupt Stark’s speech, but he also desperately wanted to throw something at the back of his idiot brother’s head, but Loki had already disappeared. 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

Loki's vision was already blurring, and he tried to focus it enough to find his way out of the throng of people. 

_“Remember, left hand, Thor. And for Ymir’s sake, don’t flinch.”_

_“Me? Why would_ I _flinch? I am not afraid.”_

He blinked away the spectres, finally happening upon a set of French doors that opened out to a wraparound balcony. He stumbled through them, sucking down huge gasps of cold, clear air as sharp pain lanced through his head like a hot knife. Loki staggered away from the doors – away from the lights and the partygoers and the ceaseless noise – and headed for the unlit corner of the balcony that overlooked the grounds. He gripped the marble bannister, hoping it would keep him upright as the world spun around him. He screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the pressure in his skull. 

_“The_ _Nachikufan_ _are a proud people, and Father was very clear that we are to adhere to their customs with impunity, lest they be offended and this whole deal falls through. Need I remind you that their_ _planet holds the largest neutron energy reserves that has been seen in the last millennia. This treaty will be crucial to the supply of power to-”_

_“Yes, I_ know _what Father said, Loki, I was_ there _.” Thor huffed, rolling his eyes at his younger prince. Loki scowled at his brother’s flippant dismissal and straightened his shoulders as they waited in the Great Hall’s antechamber for the arrival of the foreign dignitaries._

_“I still don’t see why we have to follow_ their _customs.” Thor continued to air his complaints in as much of a whisper as Thor could ever manage. “They're in_ our _realm, shouldn’t they be following_ our _customs then? What's wrong with just bowing? Or the standard greeting of hands?”_

_“Because they don’t_ have _hands, Thor.” Loki hissed, trying and failing to keep the ire from his voice. “Now, shut. Up.” Thor looked like he was about to continue grumbling, but fell silent when he too heard the footsteps that Loki had already picked up on._

_The heavy, oak doors swung open, and the_ _Nachikufan_ _embassy entered, led by the Lady_ _Sif_ _and flanked by the Warriors Three and the Royal Guard. “Crown Prince Thor, and Prince Loki_ _Odinson_ _.”_ _Sif_ _announced, her voice ringing with formality as she bowed low and stayed there. Loki slipped into a polite and pleasant expression with ease, gracefully raising his left hand to elbow height, palm up, in the traditional_ _Nachikufan_ _greeting. He saw Thor steal at glance at his positioning, before copying the gesture, and Loki tried not to look too smug._

_The_ _Nachiku_ _were_ _mostly_ _humanoid; an upright_ _, bipedal race, with_ _a single head_ _,_ _and_ _an anthropomorphic face. However, where one_ _would_ _normally find arms, they had_ _instead two boneless appendages, each ending in a pad_ _,_ _full of tiny, suction-like_ _cups._ _Their skin was a deep lilac colour that gave off a soft glow, and their_ _moonlight-coloured hair drew into finely-boned faces. They seemed almost ethereal, drifting across the marble floor; their robes embroidered with intricate patterns of glowing thread._

_The leader, Grand Vizier_ _Iniko_ _, silently approached and wrapped one tentacled grip around Thor’s outstretched hand. Loki saw his brother’s lips press together in a pale line at the squelching sounds, but he made no other movements_ _as the Vizier gave a formal greeting_ _, and Loki was almost impressed._

_Iniko_ _approached Loki next, and the youngest prince did not even blink as the cold, slippery appendage wrapped around his hand, the tiny suckers pulling gently at his skin in a manner that would be almost soothing if it wasn’t so creepy._

_“Greetings Prince Loki, God of Mischief, Deity of Truth and Lies, God of Art and Magic_ _.” The Vizier greeted him appropriately, his voice sedate and even. “_ _I am_ _Iniko_ _the Wise.”_

_“Greetings,_ _Iniko_ _the Wise. We are most humbled to host you within our fine city.”_ _Loki replied dutifully._ _The tentacle slid over his palm, suckers probing the lines on his skin,_ _before finally disengaging. “My daughters, Princesses_ _Atzi_ _and_ _Eztli_ _.”_ _Iniko_ _gestured his flipper towards the two beautiful women who stepped forward, their long, silver hair gleaming like a fish catching sunlight as they extended the same formal greeting to both princes._

_The brothers led the emissaries into the Great Hall to be introduced to the King and Queen, and once all formalities and customs had been met, the Feast began in earnest. Loki surreptitiously slid into the seat next to_ _Sif_ _, inserting himself effortlessly into conversation with the two emissaries sitting opposite,_ _Jaafan_ _and_ _Zvi_ _. A vast array of dishes were brought out, both_ _Asgardian_ _and_ _Nachikufan_ _in origin, and the Hall was filled with the odd_ _mix of_ _Asgean_ _and_ _X’zelzi_ _, the universal trade language. Having the All-Tongue, Loki easily understood both, and could converse in either, but_ _not all_ _Asgardians_ _were_ _so fluent in the universal language._ _Sif_ _picked it up quickly, however. It was one of the things Loki liked most about her – she was not just beautiful, nor was she only strong and fierce, she was also quick-witted. Subtly, Loki bumped his knee against hers under the table, and she caught his gaze out of the corner of her eye, the hint of a sly grin pulling at her mouth and her golden hair shining in the_ _torchglow_ _._

 _So distracted was he, that he had not been paying attention to the conversation happening at the head of the table, until it boiled over._

_“Take great care of your next words, young prince,” the Second Vizier, Tau, warned, his deep voice carrying over the din, “to refuse would be a great insult to our people.”_

_Loki snapped to attention, exchanging a troubled glance with_ _Sif_ _before leaning over to inert himself into the situation, plastering on his most charming grin. “My dear Vizier, I am sure my brother did not mean to cause_ _offense_ _, right Thor?” He turned to his brother pointedly, who seemed to be, as usual, caught between an appropriate response and his ever-present aggression._

_“Of course,” Thor ground out reluctantly, showing great restraint in Loki's opinion, “I meant no disrespect. I just... was surprised. I had assumed this may have been something our Father would have mentioned to us.” He groused, turning his ire on the King. Odin cast a disinterested eye over his irate son, hardly breaking his focus from the food on his plate. “And a King should answer to his heirs, should he?” Odin quipped, “I am telling you now. As part of the new alliance with the_ _Nachikufan_ _,_ _Iniko_ _has asked that we consider the princesses' hands in marriage.” The_ _Allfather_ _levelled a stern gaze at his eldest son, then turned it on his youngest. “For both of you.”_

_Loki’s veins clogged with ice, and under the table, he felt_ _Sif’s_ _hand disappear from his knee. Their mother avidly avoided meeting either of her son’s eyes. “Father, you cannot be considering this.” Thor continued to argue pointlessly, “You cannot expect Loki and I to-”_

_“I expect,” Odin raised his voice, his tone demanding deference, “that my sons will obey me!” Thor fell silent, quelled for once. “I am not proposing_ _you marry tomorrow,” Odin continued, regaining his composure, “I am simply asking you to court the Princesses, and we’ll see if a match can't be made. You are both unencumbered young princes, are you not?”_

_Loki smiled politely, tipping his head. “Yes, Father.” He felt_ _Sif_ _stiffen beside him, but could pay her no mind. “Of course. It is our duty and our honour.”_

_“Good.” Odin did not smile back, but turned his glare on his eldest. “You see, Loki understands duty.”_

_“Loki is a coward.” Thor muttered under his breath, and Loki found his brother’s foot underneath the table and stomped on it. “Ow! Err, yes. Yes, Father.” Thor echoed hurriedly, shooting Loki a poisonous look that Loki pretended not to notice._

_“Good. Then the matter is settled.” Odin declared, turning his attention back to his boar, but that didn’t stop the rest of the evening’s interactions from feeling icy, and when_ _Sif_ _cornered him later in an empty corridor, her demeanour was just as cold._

_“Thor was right.” She snapped, her arms crossed defensively and her glare sharp as daggers. “You_ are _a coward.”_

_Loki sighed tiredly, turning to face the woman’s wrath. “_ _Sif_ _, you know that my duty is to-”_

_“No.”_ _Sif_ _cut him off, “That’s the same speech you give to Thor and your father and anyone else who cares to listen, but you and I both know it to be lies." She slipped in close, getting in his face. “We are of Asgard, Loki. If we think something, we say it. If we want something, we take it. Why can you never just be direct?”_

_“Why must you provoke me?” Loki shot back, his temper flaring. “Is it not enough that you have my confidence?”_

_“No, it is not enough,”_ _Sif_ _jut her chin towards him, “because I don’t have it. I never have.”_

_“_ _Sif_ _, please, don’t be so_ _dramat_ _-”_

_“Finish that sentence,_ _Odinson_ _, and I shall have your tongue.”_

_Loki only raised an amused eyebrow. “A parting gift to yourself? How thoughtful.” The comment didn’t help his situation any;_ _Sif_ _continued to glower._

_“Don't take me for a fool. I at least know you well enough to know that there is not a single person in the realm who could claim to know your mind. You trust no one – not your brother-”_

_Loki scoffed. “No one would trust that oaf-”_

_“Not me.”_

_Loki remained silent, not wanting a lie to add insult to injury._

_Sif_ _seemed to weigh her next words, running them along her tongue before spitting them at him. “You_ _deal in secrecy and shadow._ _In solitude and darkness.”_

_“You’ve always known this. You knew what the terms would be when we started.”_

_“Yes, and it_ _was fun when we first started_ _,_ _but now… I don’t want to be a secret anymore.”_

_Loki found that his tongue was tied; his most potent asset rendered useless as he waited for the axe to fall._ _Sif_ _met his gaze resolutely; a confusing mix of both anger and hurt drowning in warm hazel. “I’m done, Loki.” She said softly, then turned on her heel and quickly left before either of them could stop her._

_“I understand.” He told her retreating back, even as it disappeared around the corner. But he didn’t understand. Or at least, he didn’t want to understand. And the drunker he got, downing flagons of ale alone in his chambers, the more his anger seethed and festered. That insult from her lips stung worse than from Thor’s, and perhaps that was why he snuck into her chambers in the dead of night and turned her golden locks as black as his._

_Thor never did figure out why, the very next day,_ _Sif_ _stormed into the courtyard and punched the youngest prince square in the face._

“Loki? Loki, can you hear me?” A soft, low voice called to him, dragging him through the haze. 

“Sif?” 

“No, Loki. It’s Natasha.” 

Warily, Loki blinked his eyes open to find a halo of red hair; tiny snowflakes catching in the auburn strands as it fell from the sky. Red - not black, not golden; and he remembered with sudden clarity that Sif was dead, his parents were dead, most everyone he ever knew were dead. With a grunt, Loki moved to quickly sit up, and found his hands felt like they were covered in sand. He brought them into his lap to inspect them. 

“Yeah, some grip you have there.” Natasha jerked her head towards the balcony’s marble bannister, where two hand-shaped chunks had been ripped from the top railing, matching the white dust that now covered his hands. “Don’t worry, we’ll make Tony pay for it.” She said with a wry smirk, bending to offer him a hand which he ignored. He drew himself upright, dusting off his hands and ignoring the momentary dizziness. 

Natasha raked her eyes over his lanky form. “You okay?” 

“Fine.” He replied gruffly, straightening out his suit. He glanced down at the chunks of marble and dust on the floor, and with a sweep of his hand, they reformed and flew up to mould back into the cracks in the bannister. He noticed Natasha was still watching him, blue eyes calculating. “Just a memory returning.” His casual explanation attempt was met with a frown. 

“Do they always affect you like that?” 

Loki shrugged. “It does seem that they may be... growing in intensity.” He finally turned to face her, and noticed she was shivering. “You’re cold.” 

She smiled sardonically. “Yeah, well, if I'd known I’d have to come out here to find you, I would have got my coat first.” 

He frowned at her a moment, then held his hand aloft, and a half-second later, the black, fluffy jacket hung from his fingers. 

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up her head. “Thanks.” She nodded, sounding mildly impressed, as he held it up for her to slip her arms into. “We’d better go find your brother before he breaks something. He was a little concerned with your disappearing act.” 

Loki snorted, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You would think, after almost a thousand years, that he would be quite used to it.” 

They stepped back inside to the bright lights and ceaseless noise, and he followed Natasha dutifully through the crowd until they reached the others. 

“There you guys are.” 

“What happened, brother? Are you alright?” 

“Hey, you missed the best part of my speech, you know?” 

“We were just getting some air.” Natasha lied easily, and Loki was careful not to react. Why she would lie to her own friends on his behalf, he did not know. “If Tony’s done peacocking, I'm ready to get out of these heels.” 

Surprisingly, Tony did not rise to the bait, but instead turned to his wife. “Am I done? Are we done here?” 

Pepper rolled her eyes but was still smiling. “Yes, yes, I've already made the donations. We’re done.” 

“Excellent.” Tony clapped his hands together, beaming, “Shall we?” They made their way out of the crowded ballroom and back to the foyer. Loki thought he picked up on chatter about which variety of food to get on the way home, but he was too caught up in his memories to listen. He was too caught up to even notice his brother had fallen into step beside him, until the oaf opened his mouth. “Why did you run off, Loki?” Thor asked quietly, concern and confusion colouring his voice. Loki pretended not to hear him, watching instead as Fara met them at the door to exchange goodbyes. 

“Thank you again, Mr and Mrs Stark. You’ve been such a help these last five years.” 

“Please, Tony and I are happy to help. It’s a cause close to both our hearts.” 

“Is the thought of leading your people really so terrible?” Thor tried again. 

Loki shot his brother a poisonous glance. “Is that not a question _you_ should be answering, _brother?"_ Loki sneered, turning his back on the once-king to instead extend his thanks to their host. 

“Loki. Thor.” Fara beamed at them warmly, clearly not sensing any lingering strife. “Thank you for coming. Very curious about you, I was.” She winked at him, extending her hand in the traditionally Midgardian greeting, and Loki took it with a charming smile. He was about to reply, when suddenly he became stuck. Something tugged at his insides, like a fish on a hook, dragging up his throat until he forgot how to breathe. 

_“I’ll make you long for something as sweet as pain.”_

_“I never wanted the throne!”_

_“I didn’t do it for him.”_

_“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”_

_“I only ever wanted to be your equal!”_

_“Who put me there? Who put me there!”_

_“But you do like to lie.”_

_“It hurts, doesn’t it? Being lied to?”_

_“Come on, what did you expect?”_

_“I thought the world of you.”_

_“I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.”_

Loki reeled back, gasping at the sensation of having his skull clawed apart. He thought he could hear someone screaming, and he hoped it wasn’t him. He blinked rapidly, trying to concentrate on the people speaking around him as the world slowly returned to focus. 

“Loki?” His brother’s voice. “Loki, answer me!” 

“What...what happened?” He panted, trying not to focus too much on the fact that his brother was part of the reason he was still upright. 

“That was our question.” Stark said, arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, Loki could still hear someone wailing pitifully. Loki stumbled out of his brother’s grasp and pushed past Tony. Bruce was crouched on the floor, Natasha peering over his shoulder as Pepper spoke rapidly into her small communications device. Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of Loki's stomach, but he pushed forward to peek over Bruce’s hulking form. 

Fara was huddled against the wall, her face buried in her hands as she wailed and sobbed; her cries interspersed with mutterings in a different Midgardian dialect. “What’s she saying?” Bruce glanced over at the assassin, but Natasha shook her head. “I don’t know. I never learned Hausa.” 

“She’s saying... she looked too far. That she saw too much... time?” Loki translated, frowning at the nonsensical mutterings. 

Natasha raised a sceptical brow. “You speak Hausa?” 

Loki shrugged lopsidedly. “I speak everything.” 

“Fara,” Bruce called gently, trying to calm the woman, “Fara, it’s okay. You're alright.” The Doctor finally managed to pull Fara’s hands away from her face, and there was a collective sharp intake of breath as the distraught woman blinked up at them with milky white eyes. 

Fara was blind. 


	7. Into The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair Warning: This chapter gets a little dark.
> 
> Also! I'm loving all your reviews guys! So happy people are liking this story. Please keep them coming!
> 
> Much love  
> xx

“For Ymir’s sake, man! Are you deranged? Or simply an imbecile? You cannot navigate a tear in space-time. It is a _tear_ , not a wormhole.” 

“Look Twinkletoes-” 

“Your Bifrost is an Einstein-Rosen bridge, which is basically a wormhole. Why couldn’t we do something like that?” 

“Do you have any _idea_ how much energy it takes to rip a hole in reality? Or the potentially disastrous effects it could have? You can’t just go around tearing holes in the fabric of reality itself! Honestly, you humans are worse than Thor in a Pixie glade.” 

“That was an accident!” 

“You _sat_ on their _house_.” 

Natasha hesitated before she skipped down the two steps to the den, wondering what she had just walked into. She glanced over her shoulder at Steve, who could only shrug as he followed her into the living room. “Now, now boys,” she said loudly, grabbing their attention as she set the stack of warm boxes she was carrying on the coffee table, despite the jumble of papers strewn across it. “Play nice.” 

Tony waved a dismissive hand at Loki and turned his back on the hologram of numbers and graphs that the three geniuses were arguing over. “Nice? I’m nice. I’m Mr. Nice. This is entirely your fault anyway.” He shot Natasha a pointed glare as he threw himself down on the couch next to Thor, who was already opening the pizza boxes to inspect his options. 

“Me?” Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms defensively as Steve slid into the spot on Thor’s other side. “And how do you figure that?” 

Tony pointed his pizza slice at Loki, who was still pondering over the holographic data even as Bruce came to join them, plopping down into his usual spot on the floor. “Because you got _him_ in on your little save-the-world, physics-doesn't-apply-to-superheroes plan, and guess what? He’s a pain in the ass!” Tony went to take a bite of pizza, when suddenly he was instead holding a big, squirming rat. He let out a very unmanly noise that was somewhere between a shriek and a yelp and dropped the vermin, where upon hitting the ground, it promptly turned back into pizza. 

“See what I mean!” Tony spluttered, his voice a notch higher than usual, as Thor burst into laughter beside him. Natasha was trying very hard not to grin as Loki, very calmly and without making eye contact with the billionaire who was trying to glare him to death, breezed past to settle elegantly into the armchair. 

Thor leant across Tony to point at the offending slice. “Are you gonna eat that?” When Tony only stared at him in horror, Thor shrugged, scooped the slice off the floor, and proceeded to stuff it into his mouth. Screwing up her nose, Natasha snagged the last untouched box for herself, and stalked over to perch on the arm of Loki’s chair. The rescued kitten, which Tony had taken to calling ‘Lucky’, clawed its way up the armchair to curl up in its usual perch by Loki’s head. 

“So,” Bruce glanced between Nat and Steve, wiping his fingers with a napkin. “How was your visit with Fara? How’s she doing?” 

“Good,” Natasha answered as Steve nodded around a mouthful of pizza. “She’s happy to be back with the kids. Her doctors said there was no permanent damage, luckily.” 

“But she still won’t tell you what the hell happened that night?” Tony asked, frowning. 

Natasha shook her head, glaring down at the pale hand that was slowly sneaking a slice from her box. “All she’d say was that she looked too far into the future, that she saw something she wasn’t meant to see.” She turned to watch Loki as he picked the toppings off his slice one by one, popping them into his mouth. “She doesn’t blame you.” She said quietly, but Loki acted as though he didn’t hear her. 

“Odd though, don’t you think? That you both looked like you were in some kind of trance, but she’s the only one that got anything out of it?” Tony prodded, regarding Loki with stringent scrutiny. Loki only shrugged, answering without looking up. “She is the Seer, not me.” 

Before Tony could open his big mouth again, the shrill buzzing of the security gate alert interrupted. “On screen.” Natasha commanded, sliding the other half of her pizza into Loki’s lap, which he happily accepted. The front gate’s security feed popped into view, showing a grown man, wildly waving his arms at the camera. “ _O_ _h! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport? In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't_ _recognize_ _me.”_

“What the hell?” Tony muttered. 

“Is this an old message?” Steve frowned at the screen, confused. 

“No. It’s the front gate.” Natasha slipped off her perch, footsteps quickening as she made her way down the hall to the entrance. “FRIDAY, open the front gate.” She instructed the AI system, and it beeped at her command. She pulled open the front door, just as a jovial, brunette man pulled up in a brown, beaten-up van. “Hi! Hey!” The man shouted as he jogged over, waving. Natasha heard footsteps behind her just before Steve appeared at her side. “Hi! Captain America, sir. Good to... good to see you again. Oh, and you, you’re the one with the zappy bracelets, right? Yeah, sorry, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t catch everyone’s names.” 

“Uh, Natasha.” She answered uncertainly, glancing over at Steve. 

“Lang? I didn’t realise you...” 

“Survived?” Scott filled in helpfully. “Yeah, no, totally. Actually that’s why I’m here. I didn’t know who else to talk to about this.” 

Natasha and Steve shared a brief look, before Steve stepped aside and let Scott in. Natasha followed them both as Steve led Scott through to the den. “Oh er, hi, Stark, Mr. Stark.” Scott stuttered, surprised to see the billionaire sitting in the middle of the living room. “Uh, guess you guys made up? That’s good, that’s... no hard feelings, right?” Scott stuck out his hand for Tony to shake, but the engineer only glanced at it disdainfully, sipping loudly on his coke. “Oh, yeah, no, I remember you. You threw a plane at me.” 

Scott retracted his hand and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes landed on the other two unfamiliar men in the room. “Oh hey, Scott, Scott Lang. You know, Ant-Man? You may have heard... no?” Scott’s introduction began to peter out when the two demi-gods continued to stare at him with blank expressions. Steve stepped around the coffee table, positioning himself so that he had eyes on everyone in the room. “Scott, this is Thor and his brother, Loki. They’re, uh, friends of ours.” He said, his eyes flickering over the God of Mischief for a brief moment. 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, the guy with the cape and the, the big hammer. Sorry, I didn’t recognise you with the... the...” Scott gestured awkwardly, then seemed to realise what his hand was doing, and promptly tucked it behind his back. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Scott, what are you doing here?” 

“Hm? Oh right, right.” Scott tapped a finger against his forehead. “Alright. So... five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she's my... She was my...” He paused, struggling to search for the right words. “She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there.” 

“I’m sorry. “Natasha spoke up quietly. “That must have been a very long five years.” 

“Yeah, but that’s just it.” Scott waved a finger in Natasha’s direction. “It wasn’t. For me, it was five hours. See, time works differently in the Quantum Realm, and-” 

“Yeah, hi,” Stark interrupted, cutting off the rest of Lang’s explanation, “sorry to rain on your parade, but you’re a bit late to the time travel party. We’ve already considered quantum travel, and it’s a no-go. Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. It’s too unpredictable.” 

“But what if we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? We could enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time. Like, a time before Thanos.” Scott tried desperately to push his point. 

“Yeah, this is what I was saying!” Bruce butted in, waving a great, green hand in Scott’s direction. “If we can pinpoint the influence of deterministic processes on an arbitrary number of regions in the space-time continuum, we should be able to theoretically navigate the process.” 

Steve caught Natasha’s eye across the room and shot her a dumbstruck look, mouthing ‘what?’. Natasha could only shake her head and shrug in reply. 

“Yeah,” Tony scoffed, “note the _‘theoretically’_. Hello? Are we forgetting the EPR Paradox? Loki, will you back me up here?” Stark turned to the demi-god expectantly. Loki looked like he had only been half-listening, legs sprawled indecently wide as he tapped his long fingers on the arm of the chair for Lucky to chase after. He glanced across the room with a calculating gaze, weighing his words. “I suppose... it is a better option than simply ripping through space-time.” 

Tony threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “This is insane.” He muttered. 

“Tony,” Natasha tried gently, “we have to take a stand.” 

He looked up at her incredulously. “We _did_ stand. And look what happened to us.” The room fell quiet as the Avengers did their best to avoid eye contact. Scott stepped forward in the silence, his eyes pleading. “Look, I lost someone... very important to me. A lot of people did. But now there’s a chance, even a small chance, that we could bring them all back. We have to try. We have to.” 

Tony closed his eyes to avoid Scott’s impassioned stare and sighed. He rubbed vigorously at his forehead, then looked to Bruce with a silent question. His long-time friend nodded solemnly, and Tony sighed again. “Fine, but I vote we use Merlin over there for the first test run. All in favour?” Tony raised his hand in the air. No one else moved. “You guys suck.” 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

It was weeks before the two scientists had the math figured out; Tony had spent more time in Bruce’s lab than he did at home, much to Pepper’s vocal displeasure, and he often dragged Loki in there with him to help out with some of the crazier quantum mechanical mathematics. It wasn’t until the snow had melted, crisp mornings giving way to pleasantly sunny afternoons, that they finally started to put together a working version of the newly invented device. 

Thor felt the thrum of anticipation in every breath; it permeated the air of the facility, filling silences with the cackle of potential energy. For the first time in a long time, he felt invigorated, animated; his mind less clouded in an alcoholic haze of despair. He felt hope. 

It was with this newfound enthusiasm that Thor went to seek out his brother one spring afternoon. He headed upstairs, expecting to find his brother in his room, as he usually was when he wasn’t arguing with Stark and Banner in their lab. Loki, however, was not in his own room, but was standing outside Natasha’s, speaking quietly with the ex-assassin. “There you are, brother.” Thor called, and the pair abruptly halted their conversation. Thor’s eyes darted between the two. “Am I... interrupting something?” He teased, waggling his eyebrows with a grin. Loki only rolled his eyes. 

“Your brother was just returning these.” Natasha said, nodding at the handful of books in her arms. 

“Taking an interest in Midgardian literature, Loki?” Thor asked, peering over Natasha’s shoulder to catch a glimpse at the titles. “You could always find Loki in the Great Library, when we were young.” He told Natasha with a grin, “He has one of those, what do you call it, identical memories?” 

“Eidetic memory.” Loki huffed under his breath, but Thor was unfazed. “Yes, that’s it. Whenever Brün sent me to find you because you’d skipped out on training, you were always up in the Library rafters with a great stack of books.” Thor chuckled at the memory. Loki continued to glower at him, but he noticed such a warm smile begin to creep across Natasha’s face that he persevered. “He knew all the histories and all the legends off by heart, and children would gather from all over Asgard to hear him spin the tales of old.” 

“Really? Well, I hope we get to hear some of these stories someday.” Natasha purred, and the harder Loki scowled, the bigger Thor and Natasha’s grins got. Thor’s eyes suddenly lit up as a thought struck him. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. All the knowledge of the Great Library was lost when Asgard fell. Some of the books in there were as old as Asgard itself. Perhaps, Loki, you could find the time to rewrite some of the tomes that have been lost?” 

Loki closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose. “Is there a reason you’re here, or have you simply come to nag me to death?” 

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss.” Thor grinned, throwing an arm around Loki’s shoulders which was immediately shrugged off. “I actually came to see if you wanted to spar. Stark is testing out some new rapid-fire system on his suit and, well, it’s been some time since the last time we fought _without_ trying to kill each other.” 

Loki snorted inelegantly. “Please, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Look how fat you’ve grown.” Loki sniped, his voice taking on that familiar sarcastic-and-slightly-insulting tone that Thor had so sorely missed. 

“Aye, I know.” Thor agreed, his grin dimming as the reminder of his uselessness weighed on his heart. “I’m afraid I became rather a drunkard after... after...” 

“After you failed to save the world?” Loki scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Please, Thor, don’t be so self-righteous. Thanos was more powerful than even the All-Father – there was nothing you could have done.” 

Thor opened his mouth to correct him, but he couldn’t find the words. After Mother’s death, he had felt such grief, like an aching hole in his heart. Father’s death had caused him anger and pain. The deaths of so many of his friends and his people had buried him in guilt. But when Loki died? When Thor had thought it permanent? It crushed his very soul. But how could he say any of that? How could he convey his pain, his anguish, his loneliness, his grief and despair? How could he complain that he lost everything and everyone, when the brother he loved was standing right here before him? 

Instead, Thor painted on a cheery smile. “Ah, when did you become the wise brother?” 

Loki looked down his nose haughtily, a playful smirk tugging across his lips. “Thor, I have read every history book in Asgard, and I can guarantee you not _one_ of them have ever referred to you as ‘wise’.” 

Natasha emitted a strangled, choking noise, which Thor realised was the redhead trying to stifle her laughter. She ducked her head, retreating back into her room under the pretence of putting the books back on the shelf. Grinning, Thor slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder to nudge him towards the stairs. “Oh ho! Sharp words there, Silvertongue. Careful now, or I won’t go easy on you!” 

“Oh, please,” Loki rolled his eyes, “I could tie you up with your own cape before you could even say ‘Mjölnir’.” 

“Well, that’s just cheating.” Thor grumbled, not noticing the sharp look Loki shot him. “Yes, well, ‘ _Some_ _do battle, others just do tricks.'_ Right, brother?” 

The echo of the past stopped Thor in his tracks, icy fingers of dread trailing his spine. He stared, mouth agape, at his brother, who turned to regard him coolly. “Loki, I did not mean-” 

“Of course you did, Thor. Do you think me an imbecile?” Loki snapped suddenly, his demeanour completely changing from moments ago. A dark shadow passed across his face, and Thor caught the glint of madness in his green eyes that he had hoped to never see there again. “Do you think I lived an entire millennia oblivious to all the whispers that surrounded me? Do you think I didn’t _know_ , that I wasn’t _aware?”_ Loki never raised his voice, but the hissed truths stung like snake bites, and Thor shrunk away from it. 

“I was one of the most highly trained _sedir_ wielders in Asgard, I have more knowledge of the Old Magiks than even Mother. I have tempered War Councils and formulated battle strategies; I am the _reason_ most of their imprudent battles were won in the _first place!_ I have studied every subject, have read every book in the Great Library. I have swayed dignitaries and inveigled political opponents within our own courts! Asgard would have been at war a thousand times over if it weren't for me. And you...” Loki advanced on him, his eyes glittering with barely-quelled rage. “How many times has my magic save you yourself from certain defeat? How many times have I come to your rescue? _You_ always got us into the messes that _I_ had to get us out of! But oh, the bards sang _your_ praises, the court fell at _your_ feet, they erected statues in _your_ name. The second son of Odin was never even mentioned in any of the history books.” Loki straightened suddenly, rage leaking from his face until his expression was carefully composed and calculating once again. “I suppose now I know why.” 

Thor licked at his lips, finding his mouth had gone dry. These were not the kind of memories he had wanted his brother to recover, but it had been foolish to think he would never remember, and just stay the charming, witty, carefree trickster that had always shadowed Thor in their youth. 

“Loki...” Thor tried to keep his voice low and calm, but he couldn’t help the hint of regret that weaved through it. “You're right...about everything.” 

Loki seemed taken aback by his admission, and so Thor pressed on. “You were right to stop me from ascending the throne that day. But these are _memories_ , Loki.” He pleaded, raising his hands like he was trying to corral a wounded animal. “I know they feel like new wounds to you, but tell me, do I still seem like the young, _stupid_ , egotistical Prince I once was? After all this time here with our friends, do you still think that of me?” 

Loki froze, his animosity lessening as the sneer slowly shrunk from his face. He frowned, his wrath warring with his confusion. “No.” He said eventually, uncertainly. His shoulders drooped as he released the tension that had been coursing through his body. “No, I suppose not.” 

Loki turned away from him, releasing a frustrated growl as he rubbed at his temples with long, pale fingers. “This is maddening, Thor.” He muttered, his face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. “It’s like... like there are two different people at war within my mind. One who remembers Christmas trees and fake elves, and the other with much... darker memories.” His fingers slipped from his temple to card through the long locks. He peeked up at Thor, but his eyes caught on something over Thor’s shoulder instead. The Thunderer glanced behind him as Natasha, having been caught hovering in the shadows of her doorway, stepped out into the hall’s light. She didn’t move toward the brothers, but remained where she was, one hand casually reaching for something tucked behind her back. 

Loki straightened, his expression easing into a blank state. “I think I shall retire to my chambers. I have no interest in sparring with you today, Thor.” He gave a curt nod and breezed past Thor, heading toward his room. Thor stared after his brother, anguish and futility playing on his mind, when the younger prince suddenly stumbled, his hands shooting out to grip the doorframe to prevent himself from crashing into it. 

“Loki?” Thor called out, concern chasing away the lingering bitterness. When Loki neither moved nor replied, Thor approached cautiously. “Loki, what is it? What’s wrong?” He placed a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder, and turned him about to see his face. 

Loki’s clear, green eyes darted about wildly, unfocussed and unseeing, like he was lost in some invisible memory. Thor heard a crackling sound, and glanced down to see ice forming on the metal doorhandle where Loki was holding it. It started at his fingertips – the deep, royal blue seeping into his skin like a blot of ink onto a vacant page, and Thor yanked his hand away in shock. 

“What’s happening to him?” Natasha had once again snuck up on him, now peering at Loki with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Thor could only shake his head and watch as Loki’s eyes, still glassy, turned from beryl to the brilliant red of fresh spilt blood. Lines raised across his skin, as if drawn by an invisible hand, etching into his forehead like scars. Then, just as suddenly, something in Loki seemed to snap. He doubled over, clutching at his head, as a half-smothered scream escaped from between clenched teeth. 

“Loki?” Thor called uncertainly, silently berating himself for being so slow to recover from the shock of Loki’s true form. He leapt to his brother’s side, placing gentle hands on his wrists as the blue receded; his skin returning to its regular paleness. Loki snatched his hands away, jolting up straight so sharply that Thor listened for the sound of his spine snapping. His eyes rolled around the room, flittering over Thor’s face then away again. “I tried... tried to destroy... and you... Father was...Father...” Loki muttered incoherently, his voice thin and unsure. “You... You let me fall. You threw me, I-” 

Thor made a sound of protest, but Loki was already shaking his head, his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to wade through the memories. “No... No, I... _I_ let go. I didn’t...” His voice fell to a whisper. “I didn’t want to be this anymore.” 

Thor felt his heart burn like Sutur’s flame as he realised what his brother was saying, and he grit his teeth against the sting in his eyes and the lump in his throat. “Loki, brother...” He tried once again to reach out, to pull his brother from this nightmarish trance, but the moment he touched Loki’s skin, he crumpled to the floor. 

“Loki!” He tried to catch Loki as he fell, grabbing handfuls of his shirt to hold him steady as the youngest prince swayed on his knees. Loki’s eyes rolled in their sockets, no longer seeing anything. “Loki!” Thor hissed, giving his brother a shake, but Loki's head only rocked back and forth with the movement. “Loki? Loki!” Thor took his brother’s face in his hands, desperately turning it this way and that, searching for a cause, a solution, anything. 

“Thor...” Loki rasped in his daze, his words like sandpaper, “Thor will... look for me... he will... come... he will...” Loki pitched forward, slumping into his brother’s awaiting arms. Panic oozed through Thor’s veins like ice and made his hands shake. “I’m here, Loki! Tell me what to do! I don’t know how to help you!” He cried desperately; uselessly. Loki’s lips moved like he was trying to speak, but no words came out – only a gurgling noise as his breath stuck in his throat, like he was being slowly strangled. 

Small, gentle hands pried Loki from Thor’s frantic grasp as Natasha knelt beside the brothers, her fingers feeling for the pulse in Loki’s neck. She tilted her head towards his face, listening for a moment, before she stood. “Get him to the bed.” She instructed, and Thor scooped his brother over his shoulder, his heart lurching horribly when he realised Loki was not as heavy as he should be. “FRIDAY, get Bruce up here. Tell him to bring the Ambu bag. He’s not breathing.” 

Natasha darted in front of him, tossing the pillows off Loki’s bed as Thor laid him down. She climbed up on the bed next to his head, then held his face and bent to kiss him. “Wha-what are you doing?!” Thor cried, torn between watching helplessly or throwing her from the room. “Helping.” She said simply when she pulled back, breathing in deeply before leaning down to press her mouth to Loki’s once more. This time, Thor noticed the rise in Loki’s chest as she breathed air into his lungs, and his misgivings cooled. 

It only took Bruce a minute to grab his supplies and bound up the stairs, but it felt like an hour to Thor. “Heartbeat’s strong, but he’s not breathing.” Natasha rattled off as Bruce took over, fitting a clear, plastic muzzle attached to a round container over Loki’s nose and mouth, gently squeezing the rounded end in measured intervals. “What happened?” Bruce asked as Tony and Steve hovered uncertainly in the doorway. 

“I’m not sure.” Natasha answered, glancing up at Thor, who was still rooted to the spot. “He just collapsed.” 

Thor opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Cold fear lanced along his spine like the sting of a lashing, leaving him unable to move, unable to think. He licked his lips and tried again. “I think... I think this is when he fell into the Void. Before he was sent to invade Earth, he...fell... from the Rainbow Bridge. We assumed him dead.” 

Bruce looked up at him incredulously. “He fell off _that_ thing?” 

“And for all of us that have _not_ been to the floating palace in the sky, what the hell is the Void?” Tony interjected, trying not to look too concerned and failing. 

“The space between realms.” Thor replied solemnly. “A place so dark and empty that not even the branches of Yggdrasil reach there.” 

“Space? Like _space_ space? How is this guy not dead?” 

Thor only shrugged, his eyes never leaving his brother’s near-lifeless form. “Asgardians are sturdier than you humans, it’s true, but even we would not be able to survive in such a place for long. I assume he used his magic to sustain him, but I don’t know for sure. Loki never spoke of what happened to him after he fell, and at the time, I had not yet forgiven him enough to bother asking.” Yet another way he had failed his brother – Thor no longer blamed Loki for refusing to call him as such. 

“Well, will it sustain him now? Because if not, I’m gonna have to intubate.” Bruce grimaced, looking to Thor for an answer. But to Bruce’s great relief, Loki sucked in a huge, shuddering breath, and Bruce pulled the bag away from his face. 

“Loki?” Thor shuffled closer to the bed, hoping to see Loki stir, but the pale green eyes remained closed. Bruce pulled a penlight from his shirt pocket and peeled back one eyelid, flashing the light swiftly across Loki’s face. “His pupils are reactive, and he’s breathing on his own now.” Bruce confirmed, tucking the light back into his pocket. “I guess we just wait for him to-” 

“Bruce.” Natasha said sharply, lifting her hand from Loki’s shoulder to point down at his arm. “There’s blood.” 

The sleeve of Loki’s shirt was indeed darkening, crimson beginning to seep into the cotton bedsheet beneath. “Crap.” Bruce swore, leaning over to inspect the situation. “I need scissors, or a-” Before he could finish his sentence, Natasha was pressing the blade from her boot into his hand. “Oh. Thanks.” He gave her a weird look, but quickly turned his attention back to his patient, carefully cutting away the sleeve to get a better look. 

A collective noise of repulsion echoed around the room and Bruce froze, his brain refusing to compute what his eyes were seeing. As he pulled away Loki’s sleeve, a large slice of the skin from his forearm came with it, peeling off like a banana. 

“Jesus _Christ_.” Steve muttered. Tony let out a much more colourful version of the sentiment, but Steve didn’t even bother to reprimand him. “Bandages. I need bandages.” Bruce ordered, finally shaking the shock from his brain. Steve dashed from the room to obey, even as yet another piece of flesh carved itself from Loki’s arm. 

“What the _fuck_. What the _fuck is happening?”_ Despite the bile rising in his throat, Tony couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. All three Avengers looked to Thor for an answer, but the thunder god was looking greener than Bruce, his mismatched eyes shining with moisture. “I... he...” Thor gulped down a breath. “I think... he’s being flayed alive.” 

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

_For a long time, he thought falling meant freedom. He felt nothing, thought nothing, wanted nothing. Stars and galaxies and nebulae rushed past him in a whirl of colour; the bright, shining light that was Asgard grew fainter and fainter as he drifted away, and he thought he was glad. He thought this would be a peaceful way to go; to be swallowed up by the cosmos, his last sight of impossibly beautiful cosmic phenomena, enveloping him like welcoming arms, finally bringing him home. He thought he would not have to hurt anymore._

_He’d thought wrong._

_His pain was only just beginning._

_It didn’t end. The stars and galaxies and everything else faded away, but still he remained. The darkness that swallowed him was made of pure madness. Without light, he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. Without gravity, he couldn't tell if he was falling or floating, or if he even existed at all. Without heat, he couldn’t feel his own limbs; wasn’t even sure if he still had any. Without sound, he couldn’t hear his own screams._

_Time meant nothing when he had no way of counting its passing. The universal laws of physics did not apply this far out into the Nothing, and a single minute stretched into a lifetime. The Nothing made him mad. The Nothing made him afraid. The Nothing made him insane._

_The Nothing made him nothing._

_He found himself wishing that he’d tried something a little more permanent. A little more instantaneous. He found himself wishing for someone to find him and end it._

What are you doing?   
Waiting.   
For what?   
Family.   
Ah. You don’t have one. You are built to destroy. You can never belong. 

_He got half of his wish._

_He cried when hands grabbed at him, even when they caused him pain; just happy that he could still_ feel _. He couldn't see who they were or where they took him. The Nothing had blinded him to all light. They spoke at him, but the noises no longer made sense to his ears. He couldn’t answer them even if he knew what they were saying; his silver tongue had long turned to dust and he no longer remembered how to breathe. He could still feel_ _pain_ _though, so they started with that._

_Oh yes, he could certainly still feel pain._

_They bound him in iron; the chains tightened after every session until they broke through skin; broke through muscle; broke through bone._

_They starved him (he was already_ _so_ _starving), or sometimes force fed him poison until he vomited up his own stomach in a pile of blood and pus and tissue._

_They beat him until his bones broke and rattled around in his skin like die in a cup._

_They burned him; sometimes with fire, sometimes with acid, sometimes with the molten core of whatever gods-forsaken planet they were on. Sometimes from the outside; sometimes from the inside._

_They stabbed him, cut him, bled him dry. They sliced the skin from his bones. They skewered him alive. They poked holes in all the vital organs and let him bleed out for days. And at the end of every session, when he was wishing for an end, for death, someone would come. He couldn’t understand them at first; couldn’t answer them at first, but they came anyway. After some time (days? months? years?), words began to make sense again. He wished they still didn’t._

_“Worthless,” they called him, “pathetic.”_

_“A lost_ _Jötunn_ _runt with no home.”_

_“Where are your friends?”_

_I have no friends._

_“Where is your family?”_

_I never had one._

_“They have abandoned you.”_

_Yes._

_“They never loved you.”_

_It was a lie._

_“They call you monster.”_

_Monster._

_“They call you murderer.”_

_Murderer._

_“You are lost and unloved. Who would take in the monster? Who would take in the would-be king?”_

_No one. No one. No one._

_“Loki the betrayer. Loki the weak. Loki the kin-slayer.”_

_I who was and should be king._

_(Never doubt that I love you) It was a lie. A lie. He was made of lies._

_“Loki the cursed.”_

_Am I cursed? What then? What more than that? (No, Loki.)_

_“Loki the fatherless. You are lost; forgotten and abandoned. Left to die twice over. They do not look for you. They do not mourn you. They are glad to be rid of you. They curse you name and spit upon your memory.”_

_Monster. Murderer. Monster. Murderer._

_“You have been forsaken, my child, but you don’t have to be. There are other lost things like you, and I have given them a home. I could give that to you, too.”_

_It’s a trick. Don't believe it. It's a lie. A lie. A lie._

_Who would want a monster? Who would want a murderer?_

_He didn’t answer; couldn’t answer; wouldn’t answer._

_They left him, and he was alone again. Always alone._

_(I only ever wanted to be your equal.)_

_***_

_He tried to keep track of how many times the purple giant came to him, to have some sort of semblance of timekeeping, but he soon lost count. (Months? A year maybe?)_

_One time, he did not come at all._

_They had forced liquid fire down his throat, burning away his teeth and tongue, dissolving his jaw, his throat, his chest like acid. They melted into a puddle of goo on the filthy floor, leaving him unable to breathe, unable to move, and in indescribable agony. He hadn't eaten in years. He was starving to death; which, for a god, was a very slow process, and every day his wounds took longer and longer to heal._

_He lay there, praying for death, when the door swung open. Instead of the usual purple giant he expected, two women entered – one with pretty, green skin, and the other with black, angry eyes._

_Who are you? Loki wanted to ask, but he only had half a face. They answered him anyway._

_“We are children of_ _Thanos_ _. We are the lost. We are the found.”_

_They knelt down beside him, and Loki flinched, bracing himself for more. But no pain came. Instead, they released his chains, catching him when he collapsed and lowering him to the ground. They tended to his wounds, dusting a fine, glittering powder over the gaping hole in his face. It stung on contact, like a thousand_ _Wafnyr_ _bites, and he would have screamed if he still had a mouth. But slowly, slowly, bones and blood and tissue began to reform, skin stretching and pulling awfully as it strained and spread across new muscle._

_They stripped off the rags that still clung to his torso and gently washed him down, scrubbing a year’s worth of dirt and grime and dried blood from his skin._

_“We could be your sisters.” Said the green one, as she dressed him in a fresh, clean shirt._

_“You could be our brother.” Said the blue one, as she held a cup to his lips and let cool, blessed water run down his newly formed throat._

_“Your old family didn’t want you, but we do.”_

_(It’s a lie. A lie. A lie.)_

_They fed him tiny morsels of something mushy and easily digestible, helping him chew until his shrunken stomach could take no more._

_“Join us Loki.” Said the blue one, as she wrapped a warm blanket around his shivering form._

_“We could be your family.” Said the green one, as she_ _cradled his head in her lap and_ _gently_ _brushed_ _out the most matted parts of his hair._

_“You could belong here.” They said, “You belong with us.”_

_(Belong? I have never belonged.)_

You are built to destroy. You can never belong. 

_Monster. Murderer. Monster. Murderer. MONSTER. MURDERER. MONSTER. MURDER_ – 

_For the first time since his fall from Asgard, Loki spoke. “Yes.”_

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

Natasha ascended the stairs to the middle floor slowly; a week of little to no sleep making her legs feel like lead. She entered the med bay; her eyes immediately landing on the familiar, blonde form that was a near-permanent fixture in the room. His broad shoulders were hunched as he slumped forward in the chair, his face half hidden behind the mobile curtain that shielded the occupant in the hospital bed from view. She approached him quietly, ducking around the curtain and gently touching his shoulder. “Thor. How is he?” 

Thor blinked up at her like he was waking from a sleep, his blue and gold eyes tired and bleary. “He has not developed any new injuries, so I suppose that is a good sign.” Thor sighed heavily, rubbing at his face. Natasha frowned. “You don’t look so great either. You should go rest, Thor.” 

Thor acted like he didn’t hear her, turning his attention back to the still form on the bed before him. Natasha assumed he was not in the mood for talk nor company, and was about to leave, when he spoke. “I... I didn’t look for him. He expected me to come. He was waiting on me to-to... and I didn’t even look for him.” 

“You thought he was dead.” Natasha said gently, unsure how to best handle guilt that wasn’t hers. 

Thor shook his head. “I wanted to find his body. To bring him home and hold a proper funeral. But there were the reparations with Jotunheim to negotiate and the courts were in disarray. Father needed me, and so I didn’t... I didn’t even...” The words caught as his throat tightened, and Natasha waited patiently for him to regain his composure. Thor was silent for a long moment. 

“After everything he did to your world, I was so angry with him. Father wanted... Father wanted to have him sentenced to death.” Natasha stiffened at this revelation, repulsed by the idea that a father would willingly hand such a sentence to his own son. “I didn’t even ask for his side of the story. I didn’t bother to ask what had happened. I didn’t want to know... It was Mother who pled on his behalf. I... did not.” Thor let his head fall into his hands, fingers tugging at his hair. 

The heavy emotions permeated the room and made Natasha’s skin itch. Unsure what else to do, she laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t know, Thor.” 

Thor turned to glare up at her with watery eyes. “But I should have! He should have told me! He should have been able to trust that I... that I...” Thor faltered, the moisture gathering until it finally leaked down over his ruddy cheeks. Natasha turned her back to the bed so that she could look Thor in the eye. “You’re here now, Thor. What’s past is past, but you can still be here for him now.” She took in the former prince’s haggard appearance; the dark circles under his eyes and his days-old clothes. “But you can’t help him if you can’t help yourself. You need to rest, Thor. Go eat. Sleep.” She glanced over her shoulder at the prone figure lying in the bed. “I’ll stay with him a while.” 

Thor let out a world-weary sigh before taking her hand between his two larger ones, gently patting the back of her hand and giving her a wavering smile. “Thank you, Natasha. You are a good friend.” He stood, joints cracking, and his gaze lingered on the bed once more before he turned and slowly lumbered away. 

Alone, Natasha set her tote bag down on the floor, rummaging around in it for a moment before pulling out a rectangular object wrapped in plain, brown paper. She dragged the armchair closer until it was touching the bed, then adjusted the curtains to obstruct the view of anyone who happened to be walking by. Bruce had put the curtains up on the second day, and forbade anyone from entering the room. Natasha had lasted almost five hours before curiosity got the best of her, and she snuck in by hotwiring the security door lock. She then wished she hadn’t. Natasha had witnessed some bloody and gruesome injuries in her time; had even perpetrated some herself. But none of them compared to seeing a man with half his face melted away; the gaping hole in his chest wide enough that she could see his heart beating. She’d sprinted to the nearest bathroom and vomited bile into the sink. 

Natasha pushed the disturbing images from her mind and shoved down her irrational fears. Bruce had given them the all-clear days ago, and Thor had practically lived in this room ever since. Even Tony, Scott and Steve had been in to visit more than once. Natasha wasn’t sure why she had put off coming back to this room for so long. Or maybe she did know, but was too cowardly to admit it, even to herself. Regardless, Natasha plopped herself down in the armchair, crossing her legs beneath her, and gazed at the lifeless figure on the bed. 

Loki looked almost doll-like amongst all the white linen; far too still and too silent. Fresh bandages wrapped him from wrist to neck, reminding her of an old-timey mummy – an image that was further ingrained by the fact that, beneath all the cotton wrappings, he was basically skin and bones. Natasha placed her parcel on the bedside table, then leaned back into her seat. She picked at a thread on her sleeve, suddenly nervous despite the fact that she was the only conscious one in the room. She knew Thor often spoke to him while he was in here, having an entirely one-sided conversation, but it seemed too ridiculous to her. She focused instead on the rise and fall of his chest; the steady, repetitive motion somewhat comforting. 

Eventually, Natasha dragged her eyes up to his face. He’d become so gaunt in such a short amount of time; hollow cheeks making his cheekbones more prominent than ever, and the dark circles beneath his eyes made worse by the translucency of his skin. Natasha pressed her lips together, remembering how they’d become numb with cold that day she gave him mouth to mouth. Curious, Natasha leaned forward in her seat and hesitantly traced her finger over his bottom lip, reassured by the warmth beneath her fingertip. She sat back, folding her hands in her lap and rubbing her other fingers over that now-warmed spot. 

A knock at the glass door startled her, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Leaning back in her chair, she peeked out from behind the curtain to see Rhodey standing out in the hall, waving to her. She stood and padded over to him, quietly shutting the door behind her. “Hey James,” she offered him a tired smile, “good to see you. Did you just get in?” 

Rhodey nodded, giving her a brief, one-armed hug. “Yeah, been downstairs with Tony and Bruce for a while. They told me you might be up here.” His gaze flicked over the drawn curtain, trying to catch a glimpse of the man behind. “You guys have a real habit of picking up strays, you know that?” He chuckled, shaking his head. Natasha hummed in agreement, her sharp eyes picking up the tiredness in his features. “Something tells me you didn’t walk all the way up here just to tell me I’m running a shelter.” Rhodey sighed, his smile dimming, and Natasha didn’t need to ask what came next. “It’s him, isn’t it?” 

The Colonel nodded, his expression turning serious. “There’s been reports from Tokyo. A single man going after a yakuza boss named Akihiko.” Natasha nodded, folding her arms across her chest as her eyes drifted back to the drawn curtain across the room. “You know, I could send a team...” Rhodey began, but Natasha interrupted with a shake of her head. “No, I’ll handle it.” She met the Colonel’s gaze with quiet determination, and he nodded once. “The others on their way?” 

“Yeah. Though they were out somewhere near the Triangulum Galaxy, so it will take them a couple days to get here.” 

“Good. That's all I’ll need.” She gave the Colonel a small smile. “Thanks Rhodey.” 

“Sure. Good luck.” Rhodey gave her shoulder a pat as he left, retreating back down the stairs. Natasha sighed, deliberating momentarily before she slid open the glass door and padded back over to the still-silent figure. Forgoing the armchair, Natasha sat gingerly on the edge of Loki’s bed instead. She wanted to speak – to say something meaningful, or at least explain where she was going – but her tongue stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t quite get the voice in her head telling her this was stupid to shut up. Instead, she picked up an abandoned pen and, pausing to consider her words, scribbled a quick note on the parcel’s paper packaging. 

On a whim, she reached out and slipped her fingers into his loose grasp, marvelling at how much larger his hands were than hers. His fingers twitched suddenly, and Natasha’s head shot up as she inhaled sharply, watching his face carefully for any sign of fluttering eyelids. But there was none. Loki remained still and silent, and Natasha tried not to let disappointment tug at her heart. She gave his hand a final squeeze, then quickly swept out of the room, refusing to look back. 


End file.
